OKETOW 

PF0PT  F 

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a 


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ELLA  MIBBLETGN  TYBOl 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


POKETOWN 


Selected  jfiction 


OLIVE  LATHAM 

BY  K.  L.  VOYNICH 
'  $I.50        . 

THE  ISSUE 

BY  GEORGE   MORGAN 

Illustrated.     $1.50 
AN  ANGEL  BY  BREVET 

BY   HELEN   PITKIN 

Frontispiece.    $1.50 
THE  NEVER-NEVER  LAND 

BY   WILSON   BARRETT 

*.So 
HEART  OF  LYNN 

BY   MARY   STEWART   CUTTING 

Illustrated.    $1.35 
PIGS  IN  CLOVER 

BY    FRANK    DANBY 
$1.50 

A  SEQUENCE  IN  HEARTS 

BY   MARY   MOSS 


KITTY  OF  THE  ROSES 

BY   RALPH    HENRY   HARBOUR 

Illustrated  in  colors.    $2.00 
NEW  SAMARIA 

BT  S.  WEIR   MITCHELL,  M.D. 

Illustrated. 


"'LONZY!"    SHE    CRIED,     "WHUT    'BOUT    DK    BULL    WHUT 

BUSHES?" 


POKETOWN 
PEOPLE 

OR 

PARABLES  IN  BLACK 

BY 

ELLA    MIDDLETON   TYBOUT 


WITH     ILLUSTRATIONS     IN     COLOR 

BY    FRANK    VERBECK 
AND   BEULAH  S.  MOORE 


PHILADELPHIA    &r    LONDON 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

1904 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVXS 


Copyright,  1901,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
Copyright,  1902,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
Copyright,  1903,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
Copyright,  1904,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


Published  November,  1904 


Electrotyped  and  printed  by 
J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia*  U.  S.  A. 


I  RECALL  WITH  AFFECTION  CERTAIN 
DARK-SKINNED  FRIENDS  OF  MY  CHILD 
HOOD,  WHOSE  PATIENCE  AND  UNFAILING 
KINDNESS  ENDEARED  THEM  TO  ME  THEN 
AND  DESERVE  RECOGNITION  FROM  ME 
NOW.  THESE  SKETCHES  ARE  SIMPLY 
INTENDED  TO  DEPICT  THE  NEGRO  A3  I 
HAVE  KNOWN  HIM  OR  HER  WITH 
THEIR  ECCENTRICITIES,  SUPERSTITIONS, 
STRANGE  CODE  OF  MORALITY,  AND 
CURIOUS  PRACTICAL  APPLICATION  OF 
RELIGION  TO  EVERY-DAY  LIFE.  THE 
HIGHER  EDUCATION  OF  THE  NEGRO  IS 
FAST  OBLITERATING  THE  TYPES  I  HAVE 
DESCRIBED.  THERE  ARE  STILL  SOME 
LEFT,  HOWEVER,  AND  TO  THEM,  AND 
THE  MEMORY  OF  OTHERS  WHO  HELPED 
TO  MAKE  MY  CHILDHOOD  HAPPY, 
I  DEDICATE  THIS  LITTLE  VOLUME 


CONTENTS 


I.  THE  OFFENDING  EYE  13 

II.  BROTHER  JOHNSING'S  SPERIENCE 39 

III.  AN  UNWILLING  DELILAH   65 

IV.  THE  Ass  THAT  VANQUISHED  BALAAM.  .     96 
V.  ANANIAS,  OF  POKETOWN  131 

VI.  THE  FEAST  OF  LOCUSTS 154 

VII.  THE  REGENERATION  OF  ISAIAH 182 

VIII.  THE  RETURN  OF  SISTER  JULIANA 208 

IX.  A  VERY  WISE  VIRGIN 229 

X.  MOSES,  JR 260 

XI.  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  TRUMPET 286 

XII.  THE  INTERVENTION  OF  GRAN'PAP 313 

XIII.  AT  FIDDLER'S  BRIDGE   .  .  335 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

¥ 

PAQB 

"'Lonzy!"    she   cried,    "whut    'bout    de    bull 
whut  rushes?" Frontispiece 

Brother  Hyatt  surveyed  the  landscape 18 

"  Fs  knowed  de  day  when  de  benches  wouldn' 
hole  de  folks"  64 

A    loud    burst    of    thanksgiving    arose    from 
Little  Bethel 94 

The  Rev.  Kinnard  Brice  gazed  at  his  feet  ...   104 
"  Open  yo'  mouf !" .152 


11 


POKETOWN    PEOPLE 


THE   OFFENDING   EYE 

BROTHER  NOAH  HYATT,  one  of  the  chief 
pillars  of  the  church,  a  member  of  the 
Sessions,  a  leader  of  class-meeting,  and 
especially  gifted  in  exhortation,  had  a 
certain  peculiarity  which  was  a  matter 
of  comment  in  Poketown.  This  was  his 
apparent  ability  to  fix  one  eye  sternly 
upon  an  objective  point  while  the  other 
rolled  independently  about,  seeking  for 
new  worlds  to  conquer.  The  stationary 
orb  was  light  blue,  while  its  roving  com 
panion  was  brown. 

Brother  Jacob  Sutton  was  pondering 
upon  this  eccentricity  of  nature  as  the 
two  men  walked  home  from  class-meet 
ing  one  Friday  night,  and  at  last  sum- 
13 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

moned  courage  to  give  utterance  to  his 
thoughts. 

"Hit  jes'  entah  meh  mine,  Brothah 
Hyatt, "  he  remarked  casually,  "tuh 
wondah  huccum  yo'  haid  tuh  suppoht  a 
blue  eye  on  de  lef '  an'  a  brown  eye  on 
de  right.  Hit  done  make  yo'  'peah 
pow'ful  extinguished,  tuh  be  sho'.  Does 
yo'  know  huccum  de  Lawd  tuh  favah  yo' 
dat  a-way?" 

The  brown  eye  of  Brother  Hyatt 
flashed  angrily,  in  direct  opposition  to 
the  pleasant  smile  of  the  blue  member 
of  the  firm. 

"Beckon  He  done  hit  fuh  de  same  rea 
son  He  tuck  an'  favah  yo'  wid  one 
straight  laig  an'  one  bow  laig,"  he  re 
turned  indifferently,  and  Brother  Sutton 
felt  impelled  to  change  the  subject. 

"De  case  o'  James  Pollahd  am  gwine 
tuh  be  laid  befo'  de  chu'ch  nex'  class 
night,"  he  remarked  hastily;  "yo' 
14 


THE   OFFENDING  EYE 

'membahs  dat  he  done  tuck  a  paiah  o* 
pants  Pom  de  Jew  sto'  on  Main  Street, 
an'  dey  come  an'  'rested  him  'caze  dey 
seen  him  gwine  tuh  chu'ch  in  'em." 

"Dem  plaid  pants  done  lay  him  low 
fo'  sho',"  said  Brother  Hyatt  reflect 
ively. 

" 'Peahs  like,  bein'  ez  he  done  wnck 
out  he  time  in  jail,  de  sin  am  spashiated 
'miff,"  hinted  Brother  Sutton,  who  was 
inclined  to  be  lenient. 

"Ef  plaid  pants  am  de  undoin'  o' 
James  Pollahd,"  said  Brother  Hyatt 
unctuously,  "den  he  got  tuh  stick  tuh 
plain  goods.  Sich  am  de  konsekinses  o' 
vanity." 

"Po'  James!  'Peahs  like  I  kin  see 
him  now,  standin'  up  in  dem  pants  an' 
givin'  in  he  sperience  fuh  de  old  yeah 
when  dey  tuck  an'  'rested  him,"  said 
Brother  Sutton,  indulging  in  momentary 
retrospection. 

15 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

"De  chu'ch,"  said  Brother  Hyatt  se 
verely  as  he  paused  at  his  own  gate,  "  am 
obligated  tuh  sterminate  sich  acks.  Dem 
whut  'dulges  in  cuss  wo  Ms  had  ought 
tuh  slit  dey  tongues ;  dem  whut  takes  de 
goods  o'  othahs  had  ought  tuh  chop  dey 
han's  off  en  dey  body." 

"Sof'ly,  Brothah,  sof'ly,"  ejaculated 
Mr.  Sutton. 

''Dem  am  de  wo'ds  oy  de  Book,"  af 
firmed  Brother  Hyatt,  focussing  his  wan 
dering  eye  upon  the  hands  of  his  com 
panion,  which  involuntarily  sought  the 
privacy  of  his  pockets.  ' '  Kin  yo '  ahgif  y 
'g'inst  dat,  Brothah  Sutton  ?" 

Brother  Sutton  could  not.  He  there 
fore  took  his  leave,  and  Mr.  Hyatt  en 
tered  his  house  and  closed  the  door. 
Within  those  four  walls  he  was  monarch 
of  all  he  surveyed,  and  he  intended  to 
remain  so. 

"Dem  ez  has  'scaped  de  clutches  of  a 
16 


THE    OFFENDING   EYE 

female  woman,  by  de  grace  o'  Gawd," 
he  was  wont  to  assert,  "had  bettah  keep 
deyse'fs  tuh  deyse'fs,  'caze  dey  ain'  no 
knowin'  whut  gwine  tuh  happen  ef  yo' 
gits  tuh  passin'  de  time  o'  day  too  fre 
quent.  " 

Almost  simultaneously  with  closing 
the  door  he  removed  his  left  eye  and 
placed  it  carefully  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  over  the  edge  of  which  it  smiled 
bravely  on,  a  small  blue  island  on  a  sea 
of  white.  The  existence  of  this  glass  eye 
was  the  skeleton  in  the  closet  of  Brother 
Hyatt,  and  he  guarded  the  secret  jeal 
ously.  When  bargaining  for  its  pur 
chase  it  had  been  suggested  to  him  that 
perhaps  brown  would  be  a  better  choice 
than  blue,  owing  to  the  prevailing  cus 
tom  of  having  such  appendages  to  match 
when  possible,  but  he  had  repudiated  the 
suggestion  with  scorn. 

"Whut  yo'  reckon  I  wants  tuh  git  a 
2  17 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

brown  eye  fV?"  he  demanded  argumen- 
tatively.  "Ain'  I  jes'  done  wo'  one 
clean  out?  I's  gwine  tuh  get  a  blue  eye, 
dat's  whut  Ps  gwine  tuh  do." 

And  blue  it  was. 

Going  to  his  back  door,  Brother  Hyatt 
opened  it  and  surveyed  the  landscape. 
The  quiet  of  an  August  night  reigned 
supreme,  and  overhead  the  moon  shone 
with  enticing  brilliancy.  Beyond  two  ad 
joining  fields  an  irregular  dark  outline 
was  plainly  visible.  It  was  the  water 
melon  patch  of  a  neighboring  truck 
farm. 

Brother  Jacob  Button,  after  leaving 
his  companion,  paused  at  his  own  resi 
dence  to  procure  an  empty  grain-sack. 
When  one  hunts  one  naturally  carries  a 
game-bag.  Brother  Sutton  was  bent  on 
a  still-hunt,  and  wished  to  be  properly 
equipped. 

"De  speckled  pullet  ovah  tuh  de  fahm 
18 


WROTH  Kli    HYATT    SURVEYED    THE    LANDSCAPE. 


THE    OFFENDING   EYE 

mils'  be  'bout  at  de  fryin'  aige  now,"  he 
reflected  as  he  climbed  the  fence. 

And  the  speckled  pullet,  with  several 
companions,  soon  fluttered  uneasily  in 
the  seclusion  of  the  grain-bag. 

"Mought  ez  well  come  home  thu  de 
watahmillion  patch,"  he  reflected,  his 
errand  accomplished  to  his  satisfac 
tion. 

The  dew  lay  thick  upon  the  vines,  glis 
tening  brightly  in  the  light  of  the  moon, 
and  scattered  closely  about  the  field  were 
the  melons  themselves,  large  and  lus 
cious,  and  most  tempting  to  the  palate. 

"Ovah  in  de  cohnah  by  de  crick,"  ru 
minated  Mr.  Sutton,  "de  sun  shine 
wahmes'  an'  de  fruit  tas'e  sweetes  V 

Accordingly  he  repaired  to  the  corner 
by  the  creek,  bent  upon  refreshment  of 
the  inner  man,  but  someone  was  before 
him.  Brother  Sutton  hesitated  an  in 
stant,  then  approached  boldly. 
19 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

"James  Pollahd,"  he  exclaimed 
sternly,  "whut  yo'  doin'  hyah?" 

James  Pollard,  he  of  the  plaid  trou 
sers,  turned  apprehensively  around,  then 
gave  vent  to  a  relieved  chuckle. 

'  '  Clah  tuh  goodness, ' '  he  remarked, ' '  I 
done  thunk  hit  wuh  ole  man  Noahy 
Hyatt. " 

"James,''  said  Brother  Button  sol 
emnly,  "yo*  done  lef  de  jail  yistidday; 
is  yo'  gwine  tuh  zume  evil  ackshuns 
'me  j 'ate?" 

The  unhappy  James  entered  into  a 
rambling  explanation  of  his  reasons  for 
the  nocturnal  expedition,  but  the  atten 
tion  of  his  companion  wandered  per 
ceptibly  as  his  eyes  became  fixed  upon 
the  partly  consumed  fruit  at  his  feet. 

"James,"  he  interrupted  suddenly, 
"am  she  ripe?" 

Over  the  brow  of  the  hill  now  ap 
peared  a  third  figure,  walking  slowly  and 
20 


THE   OFFENDING  EYE 

stooping  now  and  then  to  tap  a  melon 
inquiringly  with  thumb  and  finger. 

"Pow'ful  quare,"  he  muttered;  "I 
done  make  meh  mahk  on  de  top  so 's  dey 
wouldn'  be  no  trubble  'bout  it.  I  done 
mahked  it  wid  a  cross  an'  'lowed  I'd 
come  tuh-night  an'  git  it." 

Brother  Hyatt  paused  in  his  search 
and  listened  intently.  He  heard  a  mur 
mur  of  voices,  which  gradually  grew 
more  distinct.  Hastily  his  hand  sought 
his  waistcoat  pocket  and  fumbled  there 
unavailingly :  his  eye  was  gone. 

A  famous  general  has  said  that  the 
best  mode  of  defence  is  by  attack,  and  it 
is  apparently  true  that  great  minds  run 
in  the  same  channels,  for  Brother  Noah 
Hyatt  promptly  advanced  to  meet  the 
enemy,  with  one  hand  held  over  the 
empty  eyesocket  and  the  other  raised  in 
stern  denunciation. 

"Brothah  Button,"  he  exclaimed, 
21 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 


"whut  yo'  aftah,  Brothah  Sutton? 
Whuh  yo '  'ligion,  Brothah  Sutton,  whuh 
yo'  'ligion?" 

Mr.  Sutton  pointed  towards  his  com 
panion,  guiltily  trembling  at  his  side, 
clad  in  the  identical  plaid  trousers  which 
had  occasioned  his  downfall,  purchased 
and  presented  hy  a  sympathizing  friend 
upon  his  release  from  prison. 

"I  come  hyah,  Brothah  Hyatt, "  he  re 
sponded  loftily,  "tuh  snatch  de  brand 
Pom  de  burnin'.  I  done  come  tuh 
wras'le  wid  dis  Son  o'  Sin  an'  Wicked 
ness,  an7  tuh  keep  he  feet  Pom  strayin' 
whuh  dey  done  strayed  befo'." 

"Hope  tuh  die,"  stammered  the 
wretched  James,  visions  of  the  county 
jail  rising  vividly  before  his  mind's  eye, 
— "hope  tuh  die,  Brothah  Hyatt,  I  ain' 
done  nawthin'.  He  tuck  an '  eat  ez  much 
ne." 

James,"    said    Brother    Sutton    in 
22 


THE   OFFENDING   EYE 

tones  of  patient  reproach,  "I  zorts  yo' 
not  tuh  add  lyin'  tub  yo'  crap  o'  sins. 
Yo's  got  'miff  tuh  spashiate  an7  tuh  ster- 
minate  'thout  dat,  James. ' ' 

1  '  Ax  him  whut  he  got  in  he  baig, ' '  mut 
tered  James,  his  knees  knocking  together 
as  he  encountered  the  brown  eye  of 
Brother  Hyatt  fixed  upon  him, — "ax  him 
whut  he  got  in  he  baig. ' ' 

Brother  Sutton  shifted  the  bag  to  the 
other  shoulder,  and  its  occupants  stirred 
uneasily  as  he  did  so. 

"I  got  mus 'rats  in  meh  baig,"  re 
turned  Mr.  Sutton  promptly.  "I  done 
been  down  tuh  de  crick  af  tah  mus  'rats. ' ' 

Mr.  Hyatt  passed  to  the  rear  and 
squeezed  the  bag  between  his  hands;  a 
muffled  squawk  resulted  from  the  pres 
sure. 

' '  'Peahs  like  de  lanwidge  o '  mus  'rats 
done  been  changed  sence  yistidday,"  he 
remarked  dryly  as  he  replaced  his  hand 
23 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

before  his  eye  and  resumed  his  former 
location. 

"Whut  yo'  doin'  hyah  yo'se'f, 
Brothah  Hyatt  1"  inquired  Mr.  Button, 
rallying  sufficiently  to  return  the  attack. 
' '  Kin  yo '  splain  yo '  own  ackshuns  f ' ' 

Brother  Hyatt  saw  his  way  of  escape 
and  took  immediate  advantage  of  it. 

"Brothah  Button,"  he  replied,  "I 
done  come  hyah  'caze  ole  Satan  he 
beckon  me;  dat's  huccum  me  tuh  be 
hyah.  He  done  drug  me  ovah  de  fence 
an'  tuck  an'  pointed  out  de  ripes'  million 
in  de  patch.  I  sets  meh  eye  on  hit, 
Brothah  Button,  I  sets  meh  eye  on  hit, 
an'  I  wants  hit,  y-a-a-s,  I  wants  hit  pow'- 
ful  bad.  I  couldn't  git  meh  eye  f 'om  off  en 
hit  nohow;  de  zire  growed  an'  swelled 
in  meh  buzzom  twell  I  feel  fit  tuh  bus'. 
Whut  yo'  think  I  done,  Brothah  Sutton, 
whut  yo'  think  I  done?" 

"Beckon  yo'  tuck  an'  cut  de  million," 
24 


THE    OFFENDING  EYE 

said  Brother  Sutton,  speaking  as  from 
experience. 

"No,  sah,"  returned  Brother  Hyatt 
piously, ' 1 1  didn '  do  dat  nohow.  I  'mem- 
bahs  de  wo'ds  o'  de  Book,  'if  yo'  eye 
off  en'  yo',  pluck  hit  out  an'  cas'  hit 
f'om  yo','  an'  dat's  whut  I  done, 
Brothah  Sutton,  dat's  whut  I  done." 

He  dramatically  removed  his  hand  at 
the  concluding  word,  and  the  eyelid  col 
lapsed  into  the  cavernous  socket  pre 
sented  for  inspection.  The  two  men 
gasped  with  astonishment,  and  Brother 
Hyatt  resumed: 

"She  come  out  pow'ful  hahd,"  he  said 
pathetically;  "dem  roots  wuh  sho'ly  in 
good  an'  tight,  but  I  kep'  a-pullin', — 
y-a-a-s,  I  kep'  a-pullin,  'caze  I  ain'  gwine 
tuh  suppoht  no  onruly  membahs  tuh  my 
body.  No,  sah!  I's  gwine  tuh  cas'  'em 
f 'om  me.  An'  aftah  I  done  fling  dat  sin 
ful  blue  eye  intuh  de  crick  de  Lawd  come 
25 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

down  in  a  ch'iot  o'  fiah  an'  stanched  de 
bleedin'  an'  tuck  away  de  hunt.  He  sez 
tuh  me,  sez  He,  'Well  done,  Noahy 
Hyatt! 'sez  He." 

"I  nevah  hyah  no  sperience  de  ekil  o' 
dat,"  said  Mr.  Button  in  awestruck 
tones. 

"Does  yo'  still  hone  fuh  de  million, 
Brothah  Hyatt?"  inquired  James  Pol 
lard  curiously. 

"James,"  said  Brother  Hyatt  se 
verely,  "I  tells  yo'  mighty  solemn  dat 
ef  yo '  reaches  out  yo '  han '  tuh  tech  dem 
millions  (whut  don'  b'long  tuh  yo'), 
yo's  gwine  tuh  see  a'  Eye  lookin'  at  yo'. 
Dat  Eye  am  wotchin'  yo'  cyahful,  an' 
yo'  kaint  hide  f ' om  hit  nohow.  Has  yo' 
disremembah  'bout  de  All-Pervadin' 
Eye,  Brothah  Sutton?  Huccum  you  do 
dat?  Huccum  yo',  Brothah  Sutton?  Hit 
done  been  spyin'  aftah  yo'  dis  night.  De 
Session  am  gwine  tuh  hyah  'bout  dem 
26 


THE    OFFENDING   EYE 

mus'rats,  she's  yo'  bawn.  Dey's  some 
body  sides  James  Pollahd  fo'  de  chu'ch 
tub  deal  wid,  Brotbab  Sutton." 

Witb  wbicb  concluding  remark  Mr. 
Hyatt  turned  and  walked  majestically 
away,  complete  master  of  tbe  situation. 

"  James, "  said  Mr.  Sutton  reproach 
fully  wben  tbey  were  alone,  "yo'  didn' 
bave  no  call  tub  'trac'  'tention  tub  de 
baig,  nobow. ' ' 

"Has  yo'  got  mus'rats  in  dat  baig, 
sho'  'nufff"  asked  James,  wbo  was  an 
inquiring  youtb. 

"I  leaves  yo'  hyah,  James,  tub  yo* 
own  'flecksbuns;  aftab  wbut  yo'  done 
'pinionated  'bout  dis  baig,  I  reckon  I 
don '  wan '  yo '  s  'ciety  borne  nobow. ' ' 

So  saying,  Brother  Sutton  walked  sor 
rowfully  off.  His  heart  was  heavy 
within  him,  owing  to  the  unfortunate 
contretemps,  and  his  soul  was  awed  with 
the  Spartan  resistance  of  Brother  Hyatt 
27 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

to  the  prompting  of  the  devil.  Gradu 
ally,  however,  he  succumbed  to  the 
witchery  of  his  surroundings  and  forgot 
everything  but  the  fact  that  it  was  pleas 
ant  to  be  alive  and  to  wander  at  will  in 
a  watermelon  patch  alone  in  the  moon 
light. 

"Beckon  I  mought  ez  well  tote  one 
home  tuh  'Cindy, "  he  reflected,  and 
looked  about  him  preparatory  to  a  care 
ful  selection.  The  dew  shone  white  and 
sparkling  upon  the  dark-green  rind  of 
his  choice;  it  was  necessary  to  push 
aside  some  leaves  to  find  the  stem,  and 
Brother  Sutton  did  so.  With  a  loud 
yell  of  terror  he  jumped  up  and 
started  to  run,  but  caught  his  foot 
in  the  tangle  of  melon  vines  and  fell 
heavily  forward. 

"De  Eye!"  he  gasped,  "de  Eye!" 
And,  indeed,  beneath  the  sheltering 
leaves  a  stern  blue  eye  lay  upon  the 
28 


THE   OFFENDING  EYE 

ground  and  gazed  up  at  him  in  silent 
accusation. 

The  countenance  of  Mr.  Sutton  was 
covered  with  an  ashen  bloom  of  fright, 
and  large  drops  of  perspiration  stood 
out  upon  his  brow  as  he  stared  fixedly  at 
it,  quite  motionless  from  its  irresistible 
magnetism.  He  felt  it  incumbent  upon 
him  to  follow  the  example  of  Brother 
Hyatt,  yet  shrank  weakly  from  the 
pruning  process. 

"Lawd,"  he  gasped,  moistening  his 
trembling  lips,  "I  knows  whut  yo'  spec's 
me  tuh  take  an'  do.  Meh  eyes  done  res' 
'pon  de  million,  but,  0  Lawd,  'tain't  one 
eye  no  mo'  den  t'othah.  How  I  gwine 
tuh  git  'long  ef  dey's  bofe  cas'  out?  I 
done  seen  hit  lookin'  up  at  me;  I  done 
seen  dat  Wotchful  Eye,  Lawd,  dat  yo' 
keeps  tuh  sick  on  wicked  pussons. 
Y-a-a-s,  oh,  y-a-a-s,  I  done  seen  it  plain 
as  day." 

29 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Here  his  breath  failed  for  an  instant, 
and  the  chickens  in  the  bag  upon  his  back 
stirred  slightly. 

"I's  gwine  tuh  give  dem  chickins 
back,  good  Lawd,"  continued  the  uncer 
tain  voice;  ''I  don'  'peahtuhcyah  'bout 
'em  nohow." 

He  sat  cautiously  upright  and  fumbled 
at  the  neck  of  the  bag,  finally  shaking  his 
prisoners  out  one  by  one. 

' t  Git  home, ' '  he  cried,  heading  off  first 
one  and  then  another,  as  they  rushed 
madly  about  after  the  manner  of  all 
chickens;  "shoo!  git  outen  meh  sight. 
Shoo!" 

The  speckled  pullet,  spreading  her 
wings  until  they  touched  the  ground, 
started  for  home  on  the  double-quick, 
followed  by  her  companions,  all  squawk 
ing  loudly.  And  Brother  Sutton,  with  a 
hasty  but  apprehensive  glance  behind 
him,  did  likewise. 

30 


THE   OFFENDING   EYE 

Now  James  Pollard,  when  left  alone 
beside  the  creek,  pondered  thoughtfully 
upon  the  events  of  the  evening  without 
arriving  at  any  definite  conclusion;  he 
was  sadly  puzzled. 

"Ole  man  Noahy  Hyatt  nevah  done 
pull  out  dat  eye  hisse  'f  nohow, ' J  he  said 
aloud.  "Yit,  huccum  dat  hole  in  he 
hftidf" 

James  scratched  his  own  head 
thoughtfully  as  he  finally  started  home 
ward.  Heading  wildly  down  the  hill, 
and  scuttling  as  though  for  their  lives, 
came  the  speckled  pullet  and  company. 

"De  mus'rats  makin'  fuh  dey  roos'," 
remarked  James  as  he  stood  aside  to  let 
them  pass,  and  then  continued  on  his 
way,  wondering  greatly. 

Observing  what  seemed  to  be  an  es 
pecially  fine  melon,  he  paused  and  bent 
over  to  examine  it.  What  was  that  look 
ing  up  at  him  from  among  the  dark 
31 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

leaves  ?  James 's  heart  was  in  his  mouth 
for  a  minute ;  then,  gathering  his  cour 
age  together,  he  made  the  effort  of  his 
life,  and  putting  forth  a  cautious  finger 
touched  the  object,  with  fear  and  trem 
bling  at  first,  and  then  with  curiosity  and 
contempt. 

James  Pollard  laughed  long  and  loud 
as  he  disrespectfully  thrust  the  accusing 
eye  in  the  pocket  of  the  plaid  trousers, 
then  quietly  cut  the  stem  of  the  melon, 
placed  it  upon  his  shoulder,  and  pro 
ceeded  on  his  way  rejoicing  until  he 
reached  the  neighborhood  of  Brother 
Noah  Hyatt,  who  sat  in  the  shadow  of  an 
oak-tree  refreshing  himself  with  the  pro 
duce  of  the  field  after  the  exhausting 
events  of  the  night.  He  deeply  regretted 
the  loss  of  his  eye,  but  felt  that  its  ab 
sence  would  give  him  added  prestige  in 
class-meetings,  therefore  he  bore  it  with 
fortitude. 

32 


THE    OFFENDING   EYE 

"I's  gwine  tuh  make  'em  dance  Juba 
nex'  class-night/'  he  reflected  as  he  cut 
a  large  piece  directly  out  the  heart  of 
the  melon;  "jes'  let  me  git  aftah  'em 
bef  o '  de  Session. ' ' 

"I  done  pick  up  whut  yo'  drap  a  ways 
back,"  said  the  voice  of  James  Pollard 
from  behind  the  tree  as  he  produced  the 
glass  eye.  The  lower  jaw  of  Mr.  Hyatt 
dropped  with  astonishment  and  he  was 
speechless ;  James  was  quite  at  his  ease. 

"I  don'  like  dem  stripy  ones  nohow," 
he  remarked,  turning  over  a  bit  of  the 
rind  with  his  foot,  "dis  yeah's  de  kine 
fuh  me,"  and  he  deposited  his  burden 
upon  the  ground.  Brother  Hyatt 
pointed  at  the  blue  eye,  which  seemed  to 
possess  a  far-away,  unfamiliar  look. 

' '  Huccum, ' '  he  gasped, 1 1  huccum " 

"Brothah  Hyatt,"  said  James,  "I 
knows  all  'bout  yo',  an'  I's  pow'ful  glad 
I  does.  I  ain'  gwine  to  expose  yo'  hum- 
3  33 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

buggery,  'caze  I  wants  tuh  git  back  intuh 
de  bes'  s'ciety  of  Poketown.  Ef  yo' 
he  'ps  me,  I  he  'ps  yo. ' ' 

James  paused  and  looked  searchingly 
at  his  companion. 

"Ef  de  chu'ch  take  an'  hoi'  out  huh 
ahms  tuh  me,  Brothah  Hyatt,  an'  fuhgit 
de  plaid  pants  an'  de  jail;  ef  de  best 
s'ciety  in  Poketown  am  zorted  tuh  open 
de  do '  tuh  me,  I  reckon  de  Lawd  mought 
wuck  a  merry cle  an'  a'  eye  mought  up 
an'  spring  out  same  ez  Jonah's  gourd 
tuck  an'  growed  in  a  night.  'Peahs  like 
tuh  me,"  added  James  enticingly,  "I 
kin  see  hit  sproutin'  now." 

' 'James,"  said  Brother  Hyatt,  rising, 
"come  home  wid  me  an'  go  intuh  meh 
back  do'.  De  Lawd  done  favah  yo'  wid 
secon'  sight,  James." 

There  was  a  full  attendance  the  next 
class-night,  rumors  of  an  unusual  and  in- 
34 


THE   OFFENDING   EYE 

teresting  nature  having  excited  the  curi 
osity  of  Poketown  to  its  highest  point. 

Brother  Hyatt  rose  to  address  the 
meeting,  and  a  stifled  exclamation  came 
from  Brother  Jacob  Button,  who  half 
rose  to  his  feet,  then  sat  down  again. 

"Brothah  Button,"  said  Brother 
Hyatt  impressively,  "I  calls  on  yo'  fo* 
yo'  sperience  las'  Friday  night,  jes' 
aftah  I  done  pull  out  meh  lef '  eye  an* 
eas'  hit  Pom  me  'caze  hit  res'  too  long 
on  de  goods  o'  othahs, — las'  Friday 
night,  Brothah  Sutton,  when  yo'  done 
went  aftah  mus'rats.  Tell  de  chu'ch  I's 
speechifyin'  de  truf  'bout  dat  eye." 

And  Brother  Sutton,  in  faltering  ac 
cents,  testified  that  he  had  met  and  con 
versed  with  Brother  Hyatt  when  the  eye 
was  lacking.  A  thrill  ran  through  the 
congregation  as  the  story  progressed 
with  graphic  details. 

"  James  Pollahd,"  said  Brother 
35 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Hyatt,  as  Brother  Button  resumed  his 
seat,  "yo'  done  seen  dat  eye  resto'ed  tuh 
meh  haid.  Speak  up  now  an' give  in  yo' 
sperience. ' ' 

"Me  an'  Brothah  Hyatt,''  said  Mr. 
Pollard,  "wuh  settin'  on  he  do '-step  an' 
he  wuh  p'intin'  out  de  way  tuh  heav'n 
tuh  a  po'  sinnah  like  me,  when  dey  come 
a  light,  same  ez  de  light  when  de  meule 
stables  on  de  towpath  tuck  fiah. ' ' 

"Y-a-a-s!  dey  come  a  light.  Praise 
Gawd!"  interpolated  Brother  Hyatt. 

"An'  I  done  hyah  a  Voice  outen  de 
middle  o'  de  light,"  resumed  James; 
"hit  say,  *  Brothah  Hyatt,  de  Lawd  am 
pleased  wid  yo'.  Hyah  am  yo'  eye  back 
ag'in,  good  ez  new.'  " 

"An'  den  I  done  feel  a  ticklin'  way 
back  in  de  roots,"  said  Brother  Hyatt, 
taking  up  the  thread  of  the  discourse, 
"an'  somethin'  come  a-bulgin'  an' 
a-scrouchin'  outen  meh  haid — glory! 
36 


THE   OFFENDING   EYE 

glory!  hallelujah! — outen  meh  haid  in- 
tuhdehole.  Glory  I" 

1 '  De  light  done  fade, ' '  said  James  sol 
emnly,  "an'  I  up  an'  sez  tuh  Brothah 
Hyatt,  I  sez,  'Yo'  got  yo'  same  ole  eye 
back  ag'in,'  I  sez." 

"But  'twa'n't  de  same  ole  eye,"  in 
terrupted  Brother  Hyatt,  "  'caze  I  done 
see  diff  'unt  wid  hit.  Dis  hyah  eye  done 
been  in  glory,  an'  de  way  hit  see  now  am 
de  right  way  fo'  sho'.  Hit  done  tell  me 
plain  whut  am  de  duty  o'  de  chu'ch  to'ds 
hits  wanderin'  lambs.  I  axes  yo',  meh 
brothahs  an'  meh  sistahs,  tuh  welcome 
back  James  Pollahd  tuh  yo'  midst;  I 
zorts  yo'  tuh  open  yo'  do's  wide  tuh 
him." 

Brother  Hyatt  reached  for  the  hand  of 
James  Pollard  and  led  him  forward  be 
fore  the  pulpit. 

"Brothah  Button,"  he  said,  fixing  that 
trembling  gentleman  with  his  brown 
37 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

eye,  "I  knows  dat  you's  gwine  tub  be 
'mongst  de  fust  tub.  welcome  Brothah 
Pollahd  back  tub  de  abms  o'  de  chu'ch." 

But  Brother  Sutton  shook  bis  bead  sol 
emnly  and  rose,  as  tbougb  to  protest. 

"Brothah  Sutton,"  admonished 
Brother  Hyatt,  "'tain't  no  time  tub 
speechify  'bout  mus'rats;  I  sho'ly 
would  bate  tub  be  obligated  tub  tell  all 
I  knows  'bout  'em  dis  night.  Step  up, 
Brothab  Sutton,  an'  welcome  de  lamb 
back  tub  de  fole ;  step  up  lively  now,  an' 
set  de  zample  tub  de  res'  o'  de  Session." 

And  Brother  Sutton  stepped. 


38 


II 

BEOTHEE   JOHNSING'S 
SPEEIENCE 


all  true  b'lievahs  o'  de  wo'd  o' 
de  Lawd  am  axed  tub  be  in  dey  places 
on  nex'  Cbuesday  nigbt  at  de  wotch- 
meetin'.  We's  a-gwine  tub  wotcb  de  Ole 
Yeab  out  an'  de  New  Yeab  in,  an'  I  bopes 
dat  many  will  be  moved  by  de  Sperrit 
tub  give  in  dey  sperience  on  dat  solemn 
'casion. 

"Befo'  we  j'ines  in  singin'  de  las' 
bymn  we'll  pass  roun'  de  hat  onct  mo', 
and  'tain't  no  mannab  o'  use  fub  de 
young  men  on  de  back  benches  tub  be 
aidgin'  to'ds  de  do',  'caze  it  am  locked." 

So  saying,  Brother  Eli  Wiggins,  pas 

tor  of  Little  Bethel,  Poketown's  princi 

pal  church,  wiped  his  brow  with  his  red 

bandanna  and  sat  down.    He  had  been 

39 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

eloquent  indeed  that  morning,  and  his 
face  glistened  with  beads  of  perspira 
tion,  the  result  of  his  efforts  to  point 
out  to  his  flock  the  straight  and  narrow 
way. 

The  congregation  slowly  dispersed, 
discussing  the  watch-meeting  as  they 
walked  down  the  one  long,  straggling 
street  which  composed  the  settlement 
known  as  Poketown  and  inhabited  solely 
by  the  African  race. 

"I  wondah  now,"  remarked  Aunt 
Martha  Young  reflectively,  as  she  paused 
at  her  front  gate  for  a  few  last  words, 
"ef  Brothah  Sam'l  Johnsing's  gwine  tuh 
come  tuh  de  wotch-meetin'.  Has  yo' 
spoke  wid  him  lately,  Uncl'  William?" 

"Yo*  ain'  got  no  call  tuh  give  him  de 
name  o'  brothah,  Aun'  Ma 'thy,"  replied 
Uncle  William  Stafford,  shaking  his 
gray  head  impressively.  "I's  feard  dat 
Sarn'l  Johnsing  am  backslidin*  too  fas' 
40 


BKOTHER    JOHNSING 

tub  evah  git  redimption.  'Peahs  like  ole 
Satan  done  got  hoi'  him  ag'in  good  an* 
tight,  an'  I  reckon  he's  gwine  tuh  keep 
him  dis  time. ' ' 

"We's  gwine  tuh  miss  him  at  de 
wotch-meetin'  when  it  comes  tuh  givin' 
in  speriences.  Mistah  Johnsing  am 
pow'ful  gifted  in  dat  line/'  said  Aunt 
Martha  with  a  decided  emphasis  on  the 
prefix. 

"I  done  hyah  tell,"  remarked  Aunt 
Janty  Gibbs,  who  shared  with  the  first 
two  speakers  the  rights  of  seniority  in 
Poketown,  "I  done  hyah  tell  dat  he  say 
he  kin  splain  it  all  ef  he  gits  a  chance." 

"Splain  it  all,  kin  he?"  said  Aunt 
Martha  with  an  indignant  snort.  "I'd 
like  tuh  hyah  him  splain  leavin'  his  wife 
wid  dat  passel  o'  chillen  tuh  suppo't  an' 
settin'  up  tuh  co't  de  yallah  gal  f 'om  de 
Crossroads  right  undah  huh  nose.  I'd 
like  tuh  hyah  him  splain  dat." 
41 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

"Dat's  so,  Aun'  Ma'thy,  dat's  so," 
said  Uncle  William  approvingly.  "He 
mought  tell  easy  'miff  huccum  dat 
speckled  pullet  undah  his  coat;  he 
mought  make  us  b'lieve  dat  it's  rheu- 
matiz  'bliges  him  tuh  keep  dat  black  bot 
tle  in  his  pocket;  an'  he  mought  tell  us 
huccum  dat  one-eyed  shoat  o '  hisn  so  like 
de  one  dat's  missin'  f ' om  my  pen,  but 
he  can't  splain  leavin'  his  wife  like  he 
done;  he  can't  splain  dat  nohow." 

When  the  night  of  the  watch-meeting 
arrived  Poketown  turned  out  hand 
somely;  among  others  appeared  Mr. 
Samuel  Johnson  boldly  escorting  the  yel 
low  girl  from  the  Crossroads  and  ap 
parently  oblivious  of  indignant  glances 
cast  upon  him  from  all  directions. 
Brother  Wiggins  rose  to  address  the 
meeting. 

"Hit  am  meh  painful  duty,"  he  said, 
after  the  opening  hymn  had  been  lined 
42 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

out  and  sung  with  much  gusto,  "tuh  look 
ovah  de  faces  befo'  me  an'  separate  de 
wheat  Pom  de  chaff;  de  sheep  Pom  de 
goats. ' ' 

An  uneasy  rustle  pervaded  the  congre 
gation,  as  though  many  were  in  doubt 
regarding  the  class  to  which  they  be 
longed. 

"De  true  an*  faithful,"  resumed  the 
pastor,  "will  set  in  de  benches  on  de 
right  han'.  Dem  as  has  nevah  got  'ligion 
will  set  in  de  middle  row  of  benches,  and 
we'll  labah  wid  'em  an'  hope  de  sperrit 
o'  de  Lawd  will  move  dey  hahts  to-night. 
But  dem  as  has  onct  got  'ligion  an'  back 
slid,  dem  as  is  walkin'  ahm-in-ahm  wid 
Satan,  an'  dem  as  is  indulgin'  in  scan- 
'lous  conduc',  will  set  in  de  benches  on 
de  lef '-han'  side.  Dat  dey  sha'n't  be  no 
mistake,  an'  no  chance  o'  de  sheep  gittin' 
mixed  up  wid  de  goats,  I'll  call  de  names 
o'  de  faithful  fust;  den  de  onregin'rit. 
43 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Dem  as  is  lef '  uncalled  knows  whut  dey 
is  'thout  no  mo'  wo'ds  Pom  me,  an'  will 
go  whah  dey  b 'longs." 

This  classification  filled  the  benches  on 
the  right  to  overflowing ;  it  also  crowded 
the  middle  row  somewhat  uncomfortably 
with  the  youth  of  the  congregation, 
among  them  the  yellow  girl  from  the 
Crossroads;  while  quite  alone  in  the 
left-hand  benches,  calm  and  undisturbed, 
sat  Mr.  Samuel  Johnson — a  solitary 
goat.  And  the  meeting  proceeded  as 
usual. 

The  first  hour  or  two  were  devoted  to 
alternate  prayers  and  hymns,  instigated 
by  one  or  the  other  of  the  congregation, 
but  as  ten  o'clock  approached  Brother 
Wiggins  again  arose  for  a  few  remarks. 

"De  houah  am  come,"  he  announced 
in  solemn  accents,  "fuh  me  tuh  ax'  yo' 
all  tuh  'membah  whut  yo's  hyah  fo';  de 

time  am  rollin'  roun' " 

44 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

"Roll,  Jordan,  roll,"  shouted  an  ex 
citable  sister. 

The  refrain  was  taken  up  by  all  pres 
ent,  and  the  hymn  sung  through  from 
beginning  to  end. 

"De  Ole  Yeah  am  mighty  nigh  gone," 
continued  the  preacher,  when  he  could 
make  himself  heard,  "we  ain'  got  but 
two  houahs  lef '  befo'  de  New  Yeah  am 
gwine  tuh  be  'mongst  us.  It's  a-smilin' 
an'  a-beckonin'  tuh  us  now.  De  New 
Yeah  am  pow'ful  'ceitful,  meh  brothahs; 
it  am  sayin'  tuh  yo'  dat  its  ways  am 
broad  an'  easy  walkin',  'thout  no  stony 
places,  er  mud  puddles  tuh  wet  yo'  feet. 
It  am  a-callin'  tuh  yo',  'Come  on,  meh 
frien's,  I's  gwine  tuh  make  it  smooth 
travellin'  fuh  yo'.' 

"Don'  yo'  b'lieve  it,  meh  brothahs; 

don'  yo'  trus'  it,  meh  sistahs.    Huccum 

one  yeah  different  f'om  anothah  yeah? 

Tell  me  dat.     Ain'  it  de  same  ole  sun 

45 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

a-risin'  an*  a-settin'  dat  was  a-risin'  an' 
a-settin'  las'  yeah?  Ain'  it  de  same  old 
light  an'  dahkness,  de  same  ole  heat  an' 
col'?  An'  mo'  en  all,  ain'  it  de  same  ole 
moon  a-smirkin'  an'  a-smilin'  up  dah  in 
de  sky  I  Tell  me  dat.  Ain'  it  de  same 
ole  moon  dat's  drawed  many  intuh  trub- 
ble  befo'  dey  knowed  it?" 

"Amen.  Dat's  so,"  arose  from  the 
benches  on  the  right. 

"Bewhah  o'  de  moon,  meh  brothahs; 
tuhn  yo'  backs  tuh  it,  meh  sistahs,  'spe 
cially  de  spring  an'  summah  moon. 
Dat's  de  time  tuh  wotch  an'  pray.  It  am 
pow'ful  easy  tuh  do  right  wintah  nights 
when  de  kitchin  stove  am  buhnin'  hot, 
an'  yo'  feet  gits  fros'-bit  ef  yo'  goes  out 
side,  but  when  de  spring  comes  creepin' 
on  yo',  wid  de  frogs  a-croakin'  in  de 
ditches,  an'  de  breezes  blowin'  sof '  ovah 
yo ',  how  'bout  dat  ?  Kin  yo '  'membah  de 
Commandmints  when  de  harves'  moon 
46 


BEOTHEE    JOHNSING 

am  hangin'  in  de  sky,  big  an1  raid? 
When  de  smell  o'  de  wil'  grape  fills  yo' 
nose,  an'  de  katydids  am  callin'  tuh  yo' 
— how  'bout  dat?  When  yo'  heels  am 
lightah  den  yo'  haid,  an'  somethin'  sends 
de  blood  a-chasin'  thu  yo'  veins — how 
'bout  dat?  When  de  cawn  am  standin' 
in  de  shocks,  an'  de  watahmillions  am 
a-layin'  on  de  vines,  fit  tuh  bus'  wid  ripe 
ness  an'  glistenin'  wid  de  dew — how 
'bout  dat?  Does  yo'  'membah  de  Com- 
mandmints  den?" 

He  paused  for  breath  and  closely 
scanned  the  faces  before  him. 

"De  time  am  passin',"  he  resumed, 
"de  Ole  Yeah  am  mos'  gone.  Ain'  yo' 
got  nothin'  tuh  say,  meh  frien's?  Is  yo' 
gwine  tuh  shake  han's  wid  de  New  Yeah 
'thout  givin'  in  no  sperience  tuh  he'p 
yo'  git  thu  it?  Uncl'  William  Staff o'd, 
yo's  de  oldest  membah  hyah,  ain'  yo'  got 
nothin'  tuh  say?  Aun'  Janty  Gibbs, 
47 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

huccum  de  sperrit  not  tub  move  yo'  dis 
las'  night?  Ain'  de  Lawd  done  nothin' 
full  nobody  dis  yeah  'cept  whut  dey's 
'shamed  tuh  mention? " 

Uncle  William  Stafford  rose  slowly  to 
his  feet. 

"Brothah  Wiggins, "  he  said  impres 
sively,  "I  feels  it  meh  juty  to  tell  yo'  dat 
dey  won'  be  no  speriences  guv  in  dis 
evenin'.  When  I  done  by  ah  tell  dat 
Mistah  Sam'l  Johnsing  wuh  gwine  tub 
be  hyah  tub-night,  bol'  ez  brass  wid  all 
his  backslidin'  onrepented,  I  was  'ston- 
ished,  dat's  whut  I  was — 'stonished,  an' 
I  didn'  feel  like  comin'  hyah  nohow. 
But  I  didn'  trus'  mehse'f,  Brothah  Wig 
gins  ;  no,  sub,  dat's  wbut  I  didn'.  I  done 
went  tuh  see  Aun'  Ma 'thy  Young,  an' 
we  insulted  an'  insulted  ovah  de  mattah; 
den  we  axed  in  Aun'  Janty  Gibbs,  an' 
she  insulted,  an'  we  done  come  tub  de 
seclusion  dat  ef  yo'  'lowed  de  snake  in 
48 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

de  pusson  o'  Mistah  Sam'l  Johnsing  tub 
entab  de  meetin'  dis  evenin',  dah 
sbouldn'  be  no  speriences  guv  in  by  dem 
as  tries  tub  keep  dey  feet  f  'om  slippin' 
f'om  de  patb  dat  Abrabam,  Isaac,  an' 
Jacob  done  set  fub  us  tub  walk  in.  Dat's 
all,  Brotbab  Wiggins." 

Uncle  William  sat  down  witb  mucb 
dignity,  and  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs  took  tbe 
floor. 

"Wbut  UncP  William  done  say,"  sbe 
remarked,  "am  gospel  truf.  Dey  won' 
be  no  movin'  o'  de  sperrit  ez  long  ez 
Mistab  Jobnsing  sets  up  dab  so  biggoty 
an'  brazen.  Ef  be  kin  splain  'bout 
leavin'  bis  wife  and  fambly  tub  sbif '  fub 
deyse'fs  an'  'bout  de  way  be's  been 
gwine  on  lately,  now's  de  time  fub  bim 
tub  up  an'  do  it;  ef  be  can't  splain  dis 
nobow,  now's  de  time  fub  bim  tub  git 
outen  de  sigbt  o'  'speckable  folks.  Dat's 
de  seclusion  we's  all  come  tub,  Brotbab 
4  49 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Wiggins,  an'  dey  won'  be  no  movin'  o' 
de  sperrit  ez  long  ez  dat  low-lived  niggah 
sets  up  in  dat  bench  'thout  sayin' 
nothin'." 

Aunt  Janty  resumed  her  seat  amid  a 
low  murmur  of  approval.  Brother  Wig 
gins  was  somewhat  embarrassed  as  to 
the  proper  course  to  pursue. 

"Mistah  Johnsing,"  he  said  at  last, 
"yo'  done  hyah  whut  Brothah  William 
Staff o'd  an'  Sistah  Janty  Gibbs  has  said. 
Whut  yo'  got  tuh  say  fo'  yo'se'f,  Mistah 
Johnsing;  whut  yo'  got  tuh  say?" 

Mr.  Johnson  remained  silent,  smiling 
inscrutably,  while  the  yellow  girl  from 
the  Crossroads  fidgeted  uneasily  in  her 
seat.  Brother  Wiggins  made  a  last 
pathetic  appeal. 

"Does  yo'  'membah  whut  night  it  am, 

Mistah  Johnsing?"  he  inquired.    "Don' 

yo'  wan'  tuh  entah  de  New  Yeah  wid 

clean  han's  an'  feet  an'  yo'  backslidin' 

50 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

confessed  an*  washed  away?  'Membah, 
po'  sinnah,  dat  even  ef  yo'  sins  be  scab- 
let  dey  kin  be  made  wbitah  dan  snow. ' ' 

"  Whitah  dan  snow ;  yes,  whitah  dan  snow, 
Wash  me,  an7  I  shall  be  whitah  dan  snow," 

sang  Aunt  Martha  Young,  rocking  her 
self  back  and  forth,  while  the  hymn  was 
taken  up  by  one  after  another  until  the 
roof  rang  with  the  refrain, — 

"  Wash  me,  an'  I  shall  be  whitah  dan  snow." 

As  the  last  notes  died  away  Mr.  Sam 
uel  Johnson  arose. 

"Brothah  Wiggins,"  he  began,  "de 
sperrit  o'  de  Lawd  am  wuckin'  inside 
me  tub-night,  an'  I'd  like  tub  give  in 
meh  sperience  befo'  de  New  Yeah  am 
'mongst  us." 

" Precede,  Mistah  Johnsing,  precede," 
said  the  preacher. 

"De  Ole  Yeah  done  treat  me  mighty 
51 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

mean  in  some  ways,"  he  continued,  "but 
I's  done  de  bes'  I  could,  'co'din'  tub  meb 
lights,  an'  I'd  like  tub  splain  tub  yo', 
Brothah  Wiggins,  dat  wben  I  wuh  ex 
posed  tub  be  meanderin'  in  de  valley  o' 
wickedness,  abm-in-abm  wid  de  devil,  de 
truf  was  dat  I  was  jes'  chasin'  aftab 
one  po'  li'l  ewe  lamb  dat  bad  strayed 
f ' om  de  fol',  an'  zortin'  of  bub  tub  come 
back." 

An  indignant  rustle  pervaded  tbe 
congregation,  wbich  Brother  Wiggins 
silenced  by  a  wave  of  bis  band. 

"Splain  yo'se'f,  Mistah  Johnsing, 
splain  yo'se'f,"  he  said  with  dignity; 
"we's  waitin'  tub  byah  buccum  yo'  ack 
like  yo'  done,  an'  de  time  am  passin'. 
Splain  yo'se'f,  Mistah  Johnsing." 

"Brothah  Wiggins,"  said  Mr.  John 
son  impressively,  "yo'  done  make  ref- 
funce  tub  de  moon  in  yo'  speechifyin' 
tub-night.  Whut  yo'  done  say  am  gos- 
52 


BBOTHER    JOHNSING 

pel  truf.  It  am  de  moon,  Brothah  Wig 
gins,  an'  'specially  de  harves'  moon,  dat 
am  'sponsible  f  uh  many  things.  Huccum 
yo'  know  so  much  'bout  de  moon, 
Brothah  Wiggins?  Has  yo'  felt  it 
wuckin'  inside  yo'  in  de  silence  o'  de 
night?" 

"Yo's  strayin'  f 'om  de  subjec',  Mistah 
Johnsing,  an'  yo'  time  am  gittin' 
shoht,"  said  Brother  Wiggins  severely. 

"De  harves'  moon,"  resumed  Mr. 
Johnson,  "ez  everybody  know,  am  full 
three  nights." 

"Reckon  'twa'n't  no  fullah  dan  yo' 
wuh,"  said  a  voice  from  the  rear.  It 
was  the  injured  Mrs.  Johnson,  who  occu 
pied  a  seat  near  the  door,  surrounded 
by  her  offspring. 

"On  de  firs'  o'  dese  nights  las'  sum- 

mah,"  he  continued,  without  regarding 

the  interruption,  "ez  I  was  comin'  home 

f 'om  huskin'  cawn  an'  walkin'  'long  by 

53 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

de  canal,  I  seen  somethin'  on  de  tow- 
path  befo'  me.  It  wuh  a  gal  dancin'  tub 
de  music  o'  de  'cordeen  dat  somebody  in 
de  busbes  wuh  playin'.  'Who  dat?'  sez 
I.  'Come  dance,'  sez  sbe,  holdin'  out 
bub  skirt  wid  one  ban'  an'  bub  feet 
twinklin'  in  de  moonligbt.  'Come  dance,' 
sez  sbe.  Brotbab  Wiggins,  I  ain' 
'ceivin'  of  yo'.  I  ain'  tryin'  tub  scuse 
meb  conduc';  no  sub,  I's  tellin'  yo'  de 
truf.  De  ligbt  o'  de  moon  wuh  in  meh 
baid;  de  music  o'  de  'cordeen  got  intub 
meh  feet,  an'  befo'  I  knowed  it  I  wuh  on 
de  tow-path  wid  meh  ahm  roun'  de  wais' 
o'  dat  yallah  gal  I  nevah  seen  befo'." 

"Reckon  'twa'n't  so  much  de  light  o' 
de  moon  in  yo'  haid  ez  de  feel  o'  de 
apple-jack  yo'  done  tuck  intub  yo'  stum- 
mick,"  proclaimed  Mrs.  Johnson  from 
the  rear. 

"Sistah   Johnsing,   hoi'   yo'   peace," 
said  the  pastor;  "let  him  precede." 
54 


BKOTHER    JOHNSING 

"De  nex'  night, "  resumed  Mr.  John 
son,  "I  come  home  by  way  o'  de  tow- 
path  ag'in,  an'  I  tuck  meh  fiddle  wid 
me,  so 's  I  could  play  f uh  huh  tuh  dance. 
An'  de  thu'd  night,  ez  I  wuh  a-fiddlin' 
away  an'  she  wuh  a-dancin'  in  de  light 
o'  de  moon,  sho's  yo'  bawn,  Brothah 
Wiggins,  I  seen  de  wo'd  SIN  in  lettahs 
o'  fiah  right  'cross  meh  fiddle." 

A  sudden  thrill  ran  through  the  con 
gregation  as  they  bent  eagerly  forward, 
intent  on  hearing  every  word.  Mr. 
Johnson,  after  an  impressive  pause,  con 
tinued  : 

1  '  I  done  flung  de  fiddle  intuh  de  canal, 
an'  stahted  fuh  home,  but  I  wuh  dat 
skeert  meh  knees  trimbled  undah  me, 
'caze  I  knowed  'twas  de  han '  o '  de  Lawd 
done  writ  dat  wo'd  on  meh  fiddle,  an'  I 
'spected  it  wuh  gwine  tuh  be  laid  on 
me  pow'ful  heavy  in  jedgmint." 

"Dat  am  a  mighty  movin'  sperience," 
55 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

said  Brother  Wiggins  thoughtfully,  "an 
yo'  mus'  be  specially  favahed  tuh  have 
it  happen  tuh  yo '. ' ' 

"Brothah  Wiggins, "  remarked  Uncle 
William  Stafford  reflectively,  "whut  yo' 
say  am  true;  dat  wuh  a  pow'ful  movin' 
sperience,  but  Mistah  Johnsing  mus'  of 
f  uhgot  tuh  tell  us  huccum  he  tuh  leave  a 
lady  like  Sistah  Johnsing  hyah  fuh  a  no- 
'count  gal  f  'om  de  Crossroads." 

"Splain  yo'se'f,  Mistah  Johnsing, 
splain  yo'se'f,"  said  the  preacher,  "huc 
cum  yo'  tuh  do  dat?" 

"Dat's  whut  I's  gwine  tuh  do,  Brothah 
Wiggins,  when  I  kin  hyah  mehse'f 
speak,"  replied  Mr.  Johnson,  darting  a 
withering  glance  in  the  direction  of 
Uncle  William  Stafford.  "Fuh  some 
time  I  done  keep  away  f  'om  de  canal  an* 
come  home  'cross  de  ma'sh,  but  I  wa'n't 
happy  'caze  I  kep'  thinkin'  o'  de  gal  I 
done  lef  by  huhse'f  on  de  tow-path 
56 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

'thout  no  wo  'ds  tub  tell  huh  'bout  de  sin 
o'  whut  she  wuh  doin'.  She  done  cas' 
a  spell  ovah  me,  Brothah  Wiggins,  dat's 
whut  she  done,  an'  I  couldn't  git  away 
f  om  it  nohow. " 

"Wotch  an'  pray,  Mistah  Johnsing, 
wotch  an'  pray.  Dat's  whut  yo'  mus* 
do,"  admonished  Brother  Wiggins. 

" Dat's  jes'  whut  I  done,"  returned 
Mr.  Johnson,  "an'  den  one  night  ez  I 
wuh  walkin'  'long  de  Dutch  Neck  road 
I  done  hyah  a  Voice  callin'  tuh  me  f 'om 
de  empty  aiah.  ' Sam'l  Johnsing,'  it  say, 
'Sam'l  Johnsing;'  ' Dat's  me,'  sez  I,  wid 
de  sweat  breakin'  out  all  ovah  me. 
1  Sam'l  Johnsing,'  it  say  ag'in,  makin' 
three  times,  Brothah  Wiggins,  'Sam'l 
Johnsing,  huccum  yo'  leave  dat  gal  on 
de  tow-path  'thout  p'intin'  out  tuh  huh 
whuh  she  gwine  when  she  dies  ef  she 
don'  leave  off  dancin'?  Huccum  yo'  do 
dat,  Sam'l  Johnsing?'  " 
57 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Lies,  all  lies,"  Mrs.  Johnson  was 
heard  to  mutter  ominously. 

"I  done  flop  down  on  meh  knees,"  con 
tinued  the  narrator,  "an  ax  de  pusson 
speakin'  tuh  me  whut  I  mus'  do.  Sho's 
yo'  bawn,  Brothah  Wiggins,  de  Voice 
done  ansuh  back.  'Sam'l  Johnsing,'  it 
say,  'go  back  tuh  de  canal  an'  walk  down 
de  tow-path  till  yo'  fin'  dat  yallah  gal. 
Take  huh  by  de  han'  an'  zort  wid  huh; 
labah  wid  huh,  Sam'l  Johnsing,  labah 
wid  huh  ev'ry  evenin'  till  she  leave  off 
huh  scan'lous  conduc'.  Dat's  whut  yo' 
mus'  do,  Sam'l  Johnsing.' 

"An'  dat's  whut  I  done,  Brothah  Wig 
gins.  De  Voice  done  say,  'Keep  a-walk- 
in'  down  de  tow-path  till  yo'  fin'  huh;' 
I  done  so.  It  say,  'Take  huh  by  de  han' 
an'  zort  wid  huh;'  I  done  so.  It  say, 
'Go  dah  ev'ry  evenin';'  I  done  so, 
Brothah  Wiggins,  I  done  so.  Did  she 
repent  an'  tuhn  huh  back  on  de  music  o' 
58 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

de  'cordeen  an'  de  fiddle?  No,  suh,  dat's 
whut  she  didn'.  De  mo'  I  zorted  de  mo* 
she  laugh  an'  dance,  till  I  done  feel  obli 
gated  tuh  spen'  mo'  an'  mo'  time  wid 
huh." 

"De  hahts  o'  some,"  said  Brother 
Wiggins  sympathetically,  "am  pow'ful 
hahd  tuh  move." 

"At  las',"  resumed  Mr.  Johnson, 
"jes'  ez  I  wuh  makin'  up  meh  min'  tuh 
let  huh  go  huh  own  way,  I  done  hyah  de 
Voice  ag'in.  It  say,  'De  Lawd  am  angry 
wid  yo',  Sam'l  Johnsing.  Whuh  dat 
stray  lamb  He  done  sont  yo'  out  fuh  tuh 
bring  intuh  de  fol'T  I  make  ansuh  dat 
I  couldn't  do  no  mo'.  Den  de  Voice  say, 
pow'ful  loud  an'  strong,  'Yes,  yo'  kin, 
Sam'l  Johnsing,  yes,  yo'  kin.  Leave  yo' 
happy  home  fuh  a  while;  leave  de  wife 
o'  yo'  buzzom, — de  lady  o'  yo'  Sections, 
— tuh  suppoh't  de  fambly.  She  kin  do 
it,  'caze  she  am  so  pow'ful  smaht  an' 
59 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

hus'lin'.  Yo's  got  tub  go  live  at  de 
Crossroads  an'  snatch  de  brand  f  'om  de 
buhninV  Den  I  axes,  kin*  o'  weak  like, 
wbut  mo'  I  got  tub  do,  an'  de  Voice  done 
make  ansuh,  'Spen'  yo'  money  on  bub, 
Sam'l  Jobnsing;  spen'  yo'  money  on 
bub.  Dat's  de  way  tub  tecb  bub  babt.'  " 

Tbe  yellow  girl  from  tbe  Crossroads 
simpered  consciously  and  instinctively 
touched  some  glittering  ornaments 
pinned  to  ber  dress  as  Mr.  Johnson  con 
tinued  : 

"De  Voice  say  tub  spen'  meb  money 
on  hub;  I  done  so.  It  say,  'Go  live  at 
de  Crossroads;'  I  done  so.  'Twa'n't 
easy  fuh  me,  Brothab  Wiggins,  tub  leave 
meh  wife  and  chillen.  I  done  hyab 
whut's  been  said  'bout  me  in  Poketown, 
but  I  fuhgive  it  all.  I  wub  wuckin'  ovab 
a  strayin'  sistab,  same  ez  I  wub  tol'  tub 
do.  I  labahed  early  an'  late,  an'  spent 
meb  money  lib'ral;  she  come  high, 
60 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

Brothah  Wiggins,  she  come  high,  but  we 
had  tuh  have  huh,  an'  dah  she  am*  safe 
an'  soun'  at  las'.  Meh  duty  am  done; 
I's  gwine  back  tuh  meh  home  tuh-night, 
an'  ef  anybody  hyah  have  got  any  mo1 
tuh  say  on  de  mattah,  we  '11  argif y  outen 
de  back  yahd.  Is  yo'  satisfied  wid  de 
wuck  I's  done  fuh  yo'  chu'ch  an'  fo* 
yo',  Brothah  Wiggins?  Does  yo'  think 
de  New  Yeah  am  gwine  tuh  fin'  me  wid 
clean  han's  an'  a  righteous  sperrit?" 

" Brothah  Johnsing,"  said  the  pastor, 
with  much  emphasis,  "I  is.  Yo's  done 
noble;  yo's  lived  yo'  'ligion  in  yo'  life, 
not  talked  it  wid  yo'  mouf.  I's  proud 
tuh  know  yo',  Brothah  Johnsing." 

"Dat  am  meh  sperience  fuh  de  Ole 
Yeah,  Brothah  Wiggins, ' '  said  Mr.  John 
son  modestly.  "I  done  fetched  de  lamb 
intuh  de  fol',  but  it  am  yo'  place  tuh 
look  aftah  huh  an'  keep  huh  feet  f'om 
strayin'.  I  'vise  yo',  Brothah  Wiggins, 
61 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

tuh  zort  huh  tuh  stay  in  de  house  on 
moonlight  nights;  dat's  all." 

"It  am  now  twelve  o'clock,"  said 
Brother  Wiggins,  as  the  bells  pealed 
forth  their  greeting;  "de  New  Yeah  am 
wid  us,  meh  frien's,  an'  I  hopes  dat 
when  it  am  ovah  yo's  gwine  tuh  have  ez 
much  tuh  yo'  credit  ez  Brothah  Johnsing 
have  tuh  his'n  dis  las'  yeah.  Me  an' 
Brothah  Johnsing 's  gwine  tuh  stan' 
side  by  side  befo'  de  pulpit,  an'  de 
congregation  am  invited  tuh  shake 
han's  wid  us,  an'  wish  us  a  Happy 
New  Yeah." 

"Sam'l  Johnsing,"  said  Uncle  Wil 
liam  Stafford,  as  he  availed  himself  of 
the  above-mentioned  privilege,  "yo's 
still  got  somethin'  lef  tuh  splain.  Yo' 
an'  me's  gwine  tuh  argify  'bout  dat  one- 
eyed  shoat  tuh-morrow,  Sam'l  John- 
sing." 

"I'll  be  pleased  tuh  see  yo',  UncP 
62 


BROTHER    JOHNSING 

William/'  returned  Mr.  Johnson,  smil 
ing  somewhat  feebly. 

"Brothah  Johnsing,"  remarked  Aunt 
Martha  Young,  "yo's  got  de  gif '  o'  gab 
pow'ful  slick,  an'  when  I  hyahs  yo'  talk- 
in'  I's  'bliged  tuh  b'lieve  yo',  spite  o' 
mehse'f,  but  when  I  tuhns  meh  back,  I 
ain'  so  sho',  Brothah  Johnsing,  I  ain'  so 
sho'." 

Last  of  all  came  Mrs.  Johnson  and 
family.  As  she  laid  her  hand  on  her 
husband's  arm  in  a  proprietary  manner 
a  worried  expression  might  have  been 
observed  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Johnson. 

' '  Come  home  wid  me, ' '  she  said  in  low 
but  distinct  accents,  "come  home  wid 
me,  Sam'l  Johnsing,  an'  hyah  my  spe- 
rience.  I's  gwine  tuh  tell  it  tuh  yo'  good 
an'  strong.  Den  yo'  kin  splain  yo'  con- 
due'  ovah  ag'in  tuh  me.  I  ain'  got  it 
intuh  meh  haid  yit  huccum  de  Lawd  tuh 
give  yo'  sech  pow'ful  funny  ordahs; 
63 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

maybe  meh  haid  am  thick,  but  I  can't 
see  it  nohow.  Come  home  an*  splain." 

11  Go  home  wid  yo'  fambly,  Brothah 
Johnsing,"  said  the  pastor,  with  the  air 
of  one  who  pronounces  a  benediction; 
"yo's  aimed  de  right  tuh  live  peaceful 
an'  happy.  Go  home  rejoicin'  wid  de 
wife  o'  yo'  buzzom,  Brothah  Johnsing." 

Mrs.  Johnson  turned  suddenly  upon 
her  husband  as  he  slowly  followed  her 
towards  the  door. 

"Tote  de  baby,"  she  commanded, 
thrusting  the  heavy  child  into  his  reluc 
tant  arms, ' l  tote  de  baby.  I 's  tired,  meh- 
se'f ;  I  ain'  gwine  tuh  do  no  mo'  wuck 
till  yo'  splains  so's  I  kin  onderstan'  yo' 
meanin'.  Yo'  ain'  done  dat  yit,  Sam'l 
Johnsing — not  yit." 


64 


Ill 

AN   UNWILLING   DELILAH 

"HiT  am  pow'ful  quare,"  ejaculated 
Aunt  Martha  Young  in  troubled  accents. 

Aunt  Janty  Gibbs  shook  her  head 
mournfully  in  response,  and  closed  her 
lips  tightly  as  though  to  repress  the 
words  trembling  upon  them. 

"Ps  knowed  de  day/'  continued  Aunt 
Martha,  "when  de  benches  wouldn'  hole 
de  folks  whut  wanted  tuh  come  tuh  Little 
Bethel,  no  mattah  how  close  we  set." 

"Boom  tuh  spaiah  now/'  said  Aunt 
Janty  gloomily. 

There  was  trouble  in  Poketown 
directly  traceable  to  the  arrival  of  the 
new  pastor  at  Zion  Church.  Hitherto 
Little  Bethel  had  been  the  tabernacle 
of  the  elite  of  the  village,  and  had  tol- 
5  65 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

erated  with  haughty  indifference  the  ex 
istence  of  a  humble  edifice  across  the 
bridge  known  as  Zion  and  patronized 
by  a  few  faithful  spirits,  chiefly  from 
the  surrounding  country. 

Little  Bethel  had  a  gracefully  taper 
ing  steeple,  and  the  ladies  of  the  congre 
gation  were  particular  about  wearing 
straw  hats  in  summer  and  felt  ones  in 
winter;  Zion  had  no  steeple  whatever, 
and  the  ladies  who  worshipped  within 
its  unplastered  walls  were  fortunate  if 
they  had  any  hats  at  all,  regardless  of 
texture.  The  benches  of  Little  Bethel 
were  provided  with  backs,  and  the  gen 
tlemen  of  the  congregation  usually  wore 
brightly  polished,  loudly  creaking  boots, 
and  displayed  the  corner  of  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  artistically  drooping  from 
the  pockets  of  their  waistcoats;  the 
benches  of  Zion  were  backless,  and  the 
gentlemen  who  sat  thereon  used  grease 
66 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

instead  of  blacking  on  their  boots, — 
when  they  had  any, — and  were  ignorant 
of  the  advantages  of  pocket-handker 
chiefs.  In  a  word,  Little  Bethel  did  not 
associate  with  Zion ;  it  was  the  invidious 
distinction  of  class. 

It  was  therefore  not  surprising  that 
Aunt  Martha  Young  and  Aunt  Janty 
Gibbs,  pillars  of  Little  Bethel,  viewed 
with  consternation  the  expansion  of  Zion 
after  the  arrival  of  Brother  Tyndal. 
Tyndal,  Son  of  Thunder,  he  preferred 
to  be  called;  it  was  the  cognomen  be 
stowed  upon  him  because  of  his  elo 
quence,  and  he  felt  he  had  earned  it 
rightfully. 

"I  don9  see,  nohow, "  said  Aunt  Mar 
tha,  continuing  her  remarks  upon  the 
scanty  attendance  at  the  evening  service 
of  Little  Bethel,  "I  don'  see  nohow 
whut's  gwine  tuh  be  did  'bout  it." 

1 '  Look  at  'em, ' '  exclaimed  Aunt  Janty, 
67 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

resentfully,  indicating  the  stream  of 
people  crossing  the  bridge  and  mean 
dering  slowly  down  the  street,  "dey 
done  come  f  'om  Zion !" 

Judging  from  her  tone,  coming  from 
Zion  was  equivalent  to  going  to  perdi 
tion. 

Brother  Tyndal  passed,  surrounded 
by  an  admiring  coterie.  He  was  a  tall, 
slender  young  mulatto,  whose  most  re 
markable  attribute  appeared  to  be  the 
thick  black  hair  which  reached  well  below 
his  shoulders,  and  which  he  kept  brushed 
until  it  stood  out  about  his  head  like  a 
glistening  but  bushy  aureole.  It  was 
doubtful  if  an  ordinary  comb  could  pen 
etrate  the  matted  undergrowth  beneath 
the  shining  exterior,  but  it  was  not  fit 
ting  that  the  sheep  of  Zion  should  ques 
tion  the  toilet  of  their  shepherd.  Close 
behind,  but  alone  and  unworshipped,  fol 
lowed  Brother  Wiggins,  the  once  popu- 

68 


AN     UNWILLING    DELILAH 

lar  pastor  of  Little  Bethel.  He  paused 
to  exchange  a  few  words  with  his  faith 
ful  adherents  at  the  gate  of  Aunt  Martha 
Young. 

"Come  in,"  said  that  lady,  hospitably 
opening  her  front  door.  "Brother  Wig 
gins,  now's  de  time  fo'  yo'  an'  me  an' 
Aun'  Janty  tuh  take  an'  insult  ovah  dis 
hyah  mattah  o'  Zion.  Dey  ain'  gwine 
tuh  be  no  Little  Bethel  lef  'cep'n  us  ef 
we  don'  up  an'  ack  rapid-like." 

Brother  Wiggins  sank  wearily  into  a 
chair  and  thrust  his  hands  deep  in  his 
pockets.  Walking  home  alone  from  his 
deserted  church  behind  the  triumphant 
Zionites  had  been  to  him  a  journey 
through  the  Valley  of  Humiliation. 

"I  dunno,"  he  said  reflectively,  "huc- 
cum  Brothah  Tyndal  tuh  git  sich  a  hoi' 
ovah  de  lambs  of  Little  Bethel." 

"I  knows,"  said  Aunt  Janty  in  the 
sepulchral  tones  of  one  who  feels  that 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

the  time  has  come  to  speak  out.  Her 
companions  turned  and  looked  at  her  in 
surprised  inquiry,  but  she  firmly  main 
tained  her  position,  nodding  her  head 
convincingly. 

"Hit  am  he  haiah,"  she  announced, 
and  as  she  observed  a  puzzled  expression 
on  the  faces  of  her  auditors  she  repeated 
her  remark  a  little  louder. 

"Splain  yo'se'f,  Aun'  Janty,"  sug 
gested  Brother  Wiggins,  "splain  yo'- 
se'f." 

"Brothah  Tyndal,"  said  Aunt  Janty 
mysteriously,  "ain*  de  fus'  man  whut 
am  beholden  tuh  de  haiahs  o'  he  haid 
fuh  de  strongness  an'  de  'trackshuns  of 
he  pusson.  'Membah  Samson." 

"Dat's  so,  Aun?  Janty,  dat's  so!n 
ejaculated  Brother  Wiggins  in  evident 
admiration. 

"Sho's  yo'  bawn,"  continued  Aunt 
Janty,  "hit  am  de  haiah  whut  am  'spon- 
70 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

sible.     Kin  yo'  grow  haiah  like  his'n, 
Brothah  Wiggins?" 

The  gentleman  addressed  shook  his 
head  sadly.  Nature  having  endowed 
Brother  Wiggins  with  hirsute  adorn 
ments  which  kinked  tightly  from  the 
roots  and  covered  his  head  like  a  skull 
cap,  it  was  manifestly  impossible  for 
him  to  compete  with  his  rival  in  that 
respect.  The  three  conspirators  pon 
dered  uneasily;  clearly  the  time  for 
action  had  arrived.  Something  must 
be  done. 

"I  knowed  Pom  de  fus'  dat  he  done 
got  outside  distance, "  remarked  Brother 
Wiggins  vindictively;  " reckon  he  tongue 
ain'  quite  ez  slick  ez  he  haiah,  aftah 
all." 

Aunt  Martha  had  been  recalling  to  the 
best  of  her  ability  the  history  of  Sam 
son,  and  had  arrived  at  a  definite  con 
clusion. 

71 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Who  gwine  tub  take  an'  cut  it  off?" 
she  demanded  abruptly. 

The  same  question  had  risen  to  the 
lips  of  her  companions,  but  had  been 
repressed;  they  looked  at  one  another 
inquiringly. 

"Has  yo'  got  de  Good  Book  handy, 
Aun'  Ma 'thy?"  inquired  the  preacher, 
and  Aunt  Martha  producing  it,  the  his 
tory  of  Samson  was  read  aloud  and  com 
mented  upon. 

"Hit  wuh  a  lady  whut  done  cut  de 
haiah  often  he  haid,"  said  Brother  Wig 
gins  with  evident  relief.  "She  done 
'ticed  him  tub  go  tub  sleep  an'  up  an7 
tuck  hub  scissors  outen  huh  pocket  an' 
snipped  it  off." 

' '  Humph, ' '  said  Aunt  Janty, ' '  s  'long 's 
de  haiah  done  git  cut,  hit  don'  make  no 
mattah  who  take  an'  do  de  ack." 

"Hit  am  got  tub  be  cut  by  a  lady," 
repeated  Brother  Wiggins  unctuously. 
72 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

"Dem  am  de  wo'ds  in  de  Book;  'tain' 
gwine  tub  do  no  good  fuh  a  man  tub  go 
messin'  whuh  he  ain'  no  use.  Ef  sich 
mattahs  am'  done  reg'lah,  whut's  de 
good  o'  doin'  'em  at  all?  Kin  a  man 
'tice  a  man?  Tell  me  dat." 

This  argument,  being  unanswerable, 
was  passed  over  in  silence. 

"Whut  kin  yo'  do,  Aun'  Ma'thy?"  he 
resumed  persuasively;  "yo's  got  a  way 
wid  yo',  Aun'  Ma 'thy,  dat  am  pow'ful 
takin'." 

Aunt  Martha  settled  her  ample  form 
more  comfortably  in  her  chair. 

"Beckon  meh  days  fuh  'ticemints  an' 
sich  am  ovah,"  she  said  imperturbably. 

Clearly  Aunt  Martha  was  not  to  be 
beguiled  into  personal  action  with  re 
gard  to  the  hair  of  Brother  Tyndal.  Nor 
was  Aunt  Janty  more  encouraging,  as 
the  troubled  eye  of  the  preacher  sought 
her  face  in  evident  anxiety;  her  shake 
73 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

of  the  head  was  final  and  decisive.  As 
the  trio  again  gravely  considered  the 
question,  a  shadow  fell  upojo.  the  window- 
shade. 

"Melindy!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Janty 
and  Brother  Wiggins  in  unison  with  evi 
dent  relief. 

" Everybody  know,"  said  Brother 
Wiggins  slowly,  "dat  when  Melindy 
'swade  no  man  kin'  'ny." 

"Dey  ain'  a  man  in  Poketown," 
chimed  in  Aunt  Janty,  "whut  wouldn' 
shave  hisse'f  bald  ef  Melindy  spressed 
a  zire  fuh  he  haiah.  'Tain'  no  reason 
Brothah  Tyndal  gwine  tuh  be  diffunt." 

Aunt  Martha  smiled  with  conscious 
pride;  it  was  no  small  matter  to  be 
grandmother  to  the  belle  of  Poketown. 

"Me  an'  Melindy  will  do  whut  we  kin, 
Brothah  Wiggins,"  she  promised  rashly. 

The  next  evening  the  three  pillars  of 
Little  Bethel  met  again  in  the  parlor  of 
74 


AN     UNWILLING    DELILAH 

Aunt  Martha  Young.  This  time  they 
were  reinforced  by  the  presence  of  Me- 
linda,  who  sat  sulkily  aloof  and  appar 
ently  took  but  little  interest  in  the  pro 
ceedings. 

"Aun'  Ma 'thy,"  said  Brother  Wig 
gins  pompously,  "has  yo'  done-  splained 
tuh  Melindy  whut  she  got  tuh  do?" 

"I  done  make  huh  read  out  loud  tuh 
me  twict  ovah  'bout  Mistah  Samson  an* 
he  lady-frien',"  replied  Aunt  Martha 
delicately. 

"Whut  yo'  got  tuh  say  fuh  yo'se'f, 
Melindy?"  asked  Aunt  Janty  suddenly; 
but  Melinda  made  no  response. 

"Min'  yo'  mannahs,  gal,"  admonished 
her  grandmother  severely. 

Melinda  turned  her  head  slightly  and 
addressed  the  masculine  element. 

"Does  yo'  sho'  nuff  b'lieve  Brothah 
Tyndal  am  like  Samson?"  she  inquired 
earnestly. 

75 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"I  does,"  he  returned  with  conviction. 

"An*  kin  he  do  whut  Samson  done?" 
she  continued. 

"Ez  long  ez  he  haiah  float  out  behin' 
he  haid,"  replied  Brother  Wiggins  sol 
emnly,  "dey  ain'  nawthin'  he  kain't  do." 

The  girl  twisted  her  fingers  irreso 
lutely  and  cast  a  rebellious  glance  at  her 
grandmother. 

"Do  yo'  own  clippin',"  she  muttered 
sullenly.  "'Tain'  faiah  tuh  ax  me  tuh 
do  whut  yo's  feahed  tuh  do  yo'se'f." 

"Melindy,"  said  Aunt  Martha  warn- 
ingly. 

"Don'  keer,"  said  Melinda,  bursting 
into  tears.  "I  ain'  gwine  tuh  be  kilt  wid 
no  jawbone,  so  now!" 

i  l  Whut  yo '  means,  Melindy  ? ' '  queried 
Aunt  Janty. 

"Ole  Samson  he  done  kill  folks  wid 
de  jawbone  of  a'  ass,"  sobbed  Melinda, 
"an'  I  reckon  Brothah  Tyndal  done  got 
76 


AN     UNWILLING    DELILAH 

he  jawbone  roun'  handy.  I  ain'  gwine 
tuhdieyit;  I 's  too  young/1 

"Lemme  zort  wid  huh,"  offered 
Brother  Wiggins  officiously,  interrupt 
ing  the  angry  retort  of  Aunt  Martha  and 
laying  his  hand  on  Melinda's  shoulder 
as  he  spoke. 

"Honey,"  he  said  quietly,  "yo's 
wrong  in  yo'  notions.  Samson  didn'  kill 
nobody." 

"Look  in  de  Book,"  said  the  girl,  un 
convinced;  "hit  done  say  he  kilt  right 
an'  lef  wid  de  jawbone  of  a'  ass." 

"Laws,  Melindy,"  returned  Brother 
Wiggins  soothingly, i  i  I  dunno  whut  yo  's 
thinkin'  'bout.  Samson  didn'  kill  no 
body;  he  slew  he  enemies,  dat's  all." 

"Dat's  all,"  echoed  Aunt  Janty  reas 
suringly. 

"Dey's  a  heap  o'  diffunce  betwix'  kill- 
in'  an '  slewing"  explained  the  preacher 
condescendingly;  "hit  am  only  wicked 
77 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

men  whut  kills,  but  hit  am  de  righteous 
an'  dem  whut  is  sanctified  whut  knows 
how  tuh  slew." 

Melinda  was  now  listening  intently. 

"I  dunno,"  she  remarked  reflectively, 
"ez  it  make  any  mattah  tuh  dem  whut 
de  jawbone  hit  whuthah  dey  wuh  kilt  or 
slewed. ' ' 

Brother  Wiggins  resorted  to  another 
expedient. 

"Melindy,"  he  said,  "does  yo'  know 
why  yo'  done  been  selected  tuh  do  dis 
pious  ack  fuh  yo'  chu'ch?" 

"  'Gaze  yo's  feahed  tuh  up  an'  do  hit 
fuh  yo'se'f,"  returned  Melinda  with  re 
curring  resentment  in  her  tones. 

"  'Gaze  dey  ain'  no  lady  in  Poketown 
ez  kin  'swade  like  yo'  kin,"  he  replied, 
"an'  if  dat  long-haiahed  zorter  up  in 
Zion  kin  hoi'  out  'g'inst  yo',  Melindy, 
honey,  den  he  am  mo'  en  morshial  man." 

Melinda  simpered  consciously;  the 
78 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

right  string  had  at  last  been  pulled,  and 
Brother  Wiggins,  seizing  his  opportu 
nity,  extorted  a  promise  from  her  to 
waylay  his  rival  at  the  first  opportunity. 

"Yo*  mought  hegin  by  axin'  de 
straightes'  way  tuh  heav'n,"  suggested 
Aunt  Janty  thoughtfully,  "an'  say  yo' 
done  feel  yo's  stahted  wrong,  'caze  yo's 
been  trabellin'  in  de  way  Brothah  Wig 
gins  p'inted  out." 

"An*  yo'  kin  keep  yo'  scissors  handy 
in  yo'  pocket, "  added  that  gentleman; 
"dey  ain'  no  tellin'  when  yo'  chance 
gwine  tuh  come." 

The  fears  of  Melinda  returned  with 
redoubled  force  at  this  practical  sugges 
tion. 

"Fs  skeert  tuh  tech  de  haiah  o' 
Brothah  Tyndal,"  she  said  nervously; 
"dey  ain'  no  tellin'  whut  bones  he  done 
keep  roun'  tuh  slew  wid,  same  ez  Sam 
son.  Ef  he  go  tuh  grapplin'  down  in  he 
79 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

pocket  Ps  gwine  tub  up  an'  run  away. 
I's  skeert,  dat's  whut  I  is,"  finished  the 
reluctant  Delilah  with  a  second  burst  of 
tears. 

Brother  Tyndal  passed  his  hand 
caressingly  over  his  sleek  and  shining 
locks  and  smiled  encouragement  at  the 
suppliant  beside  him.  It  is  undoubtedly 
easier  to  take  some  sinners  by  the  hand 
and  lead  them  forward  in  the  straight 
and  narrow  way  than  to  indicate  it  by 
merely  standing  aloof  and  pointing. 
There  were  times  when  Brother  Tyndal 
found  this  duty  not  unpleasant,  and  this 
was  one  of  them. 

"Is  yo'  mo'  easy-like  in  yo'  min',  li'l 
Sistah  f "  he  inquired  with  a  gentle  press 
ure  of  her  hand  at  the  same  time  coming 
closer  to  her. 

The  little  sister  said  that  her  mind 
was  quite  at  rest,  but  that  she  needed 
80 


AN     UNWILLING    DELILAH 

just  one  thing  to  make  her  happiness 
complete. 

"I  feels,  Brothah  Tyndal,"  she  said 
earnestly,  "dat  ef  I  kep'  a  lock  of  yo' 
haiah  in  meh  buzzom,  ole  Satan  couldn' 
git  in  nohow. ' ' 

Brother  Tyndal  merely  responded 
vaguely  that  he  would  think  about  it. 
The  scissors  in  Melinda 's  pocket  weighed 
heavily  at  times  and  she  longed  to  cast 
them  aside.  Moreover,  she  had  been 
warned  that  morning  by  her  grand 
mother  that  dire  consequences  awaited 
her  if  her  task  were  not  performed 
within  a  week,  and  Aunt  Martha  was  a 
woman  of  her  word.  Melinda  sighed 
heavily;  her  lot  in  life  appeared  most 
undesirable.  Then  too  the  fascinations 
of  Brother  Tyndal  had  not  been  exerted 
in  vain,  and  Melinda  felt  she  could  not 
deprive  him  of  his  strength  without 
acute  regret  on  her  own  part.  Her 
6  81 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

thoughts  also  dwelt  constantly  upon  the 
concealed  and  unusual  weapon  with 
which  his  enemies  were  presumably  de 
stroyed. 

"Brothah  Tyndal,"  she  said  timidly, 
"does  yo'  keep  yo'  jawbone  wid  yo* 
alwiz?" 

"I  couldn'  git  'long  widout  it  nohow," 
returned  Brother  Tyndal  in  evident  as 
tonishment. 

They  paused  at  Melinda 's  front  gate, 
and  he  refused  her  invitation  to  enter, 
saying  he  must  go  home  and  rest  before 
the  evening  service. 

"Is  yo'  gwine  tuh  be  dah,  li'l  Sistah?" 
he  inquired,  with  an  appealing  glance. 

"Is  yo'  cyahin'  'bout  sich  ez  me?" 
asked  Melinda,  returning  the  glance  with 
interest.  And  Brother  Tyndal  con 
vinced  her  that  he  cared  very  much. 

Melinda  reluctantly  entered  the  house, 
her  work  unperformed  and  her  heart  re- 
82 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

bellious  within  her.  Brother  Wiggins 
and  Aunt  Martha  greeted  her  with  cold 
disapproval;  they  felt  that  Melinda 
must  be  spurred  on  towards  her  duty. 

"How  much  longah,"  demanded  her 
grandmother,  "is  yo'  gwine  tuh  higgle 
ovah  dat  haiah  bizness?" 

"Dem  ez  puts  dey  han'  tuh  de  plough 
an'  looks  back  mus'  take  de  konse- 
kinses,"  admonished  Brother  Wiggins 
severely. 

Brother  Wiggins  felt  bitterly  on  the 
subject,  for  the  paucity  of  dimes  and 
nickels  in  the  offertory  of  Little  Bethel 
had  become  appalling.  Melinda,  with 
out  responding,  seated  herself  by  the 
window  and  waited  until  it  should  be 
time  to  go  to  church.  Evening  service 
begins  late  in  Poketown,  to  accommo 
date  those  who  are  obliged  to  wash  the 
dishes  of  carnally  minded  Caucasians, 
therefore  twilight  deepened  and  the 
83 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

moon  rose  slowly  over  the  tapering 
steeple  of  Little  Bethel  and  the  flat  roof 
of  Zion.  Hurried  footsteps  approached 
the  house,  and  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs  burst 
breathlessly  into  the  room. 

"Now  am  de  time,"  she  gasped;  "he 
am  gone  tuh  sleep  in  he  back  gyahdin; 
I  done  seen  him  f  'om  meh  kitchen  win- 
dah." 

"Come  on,  Melindy,"  said  Brother 
Wiggins,  rising  resolutely,  "de  houah 
am  at  han'.  Come  fohwahd,  Chile  o' 
Little  Bethel. " 

The  Child  of  Little  Bethel  hung  back, 
protesting  vainly  against  her  fate. 

"Dis  hyah  ain'  no  time  tuh  stop  fuh 
trifles,"  said  Aunt  Janty  emphatically; 
"take  huh  by  de  han',  Brothah  Wiggins, 
an'  pull  hahd;  me  an'  Aun'  Ma 'thy 's 
gwine  tuh  push." 

In  this  manner  they  proceeded  by  a 
circuitous  and  unfrequented  route  to  the 

84 


AN     UNWILLING    DELILAH 

back  yard  of  Brother  Tyndal.  There, 
indeed,  lay  the  Son  of  Thunder  stretched 
upon  a  bench,  sleeping  soundly  but  audi 
bly,  with  his  wealth  of  hair  gently  stirred 
by  the  evening  breeze.  The  sight  of  his 
flowing  locks  exasperated  Brother  Wig 
gins  beyond  endurance. 

"Do  yo'  juty,"  he  commanded,  push 
ing  the  shrinking  girl  forward. 

"Ps  skeert,"  quavered  Melinda,  draw 
ing  her  scissors  slowly  from  her  pocket. 

"Whut  yo's  gwine  tuh  do,"  said 
Brother  Wiggins  reassuringly,  as  he 
waved  his  hand  towards  his  rival's 
back  yard,  "am  gwine  tuh  make  yo' 
fuhevah  blessid." 

Thus  encouraged,  Melinda  took  sev 
eral  steps  forward. 

"0  Lawd,"  she  ejaculated,  pausing 
suddenly,  "keep  he  han'  Pom  off  en  de 
jawbone." 

"Dey  ain'  nawthin'  gwine  tuh  keep 
85 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

my  han'  off  en  yo'  jawbone  ef  yo'  don' 
git  tub  wuck,"  remarked  Aunt  Martha 
with  unmistakable  emphasis. 

Melinda  desperately  thrust  her  scis 
sors  into  the  black  hair  before  her. 
They  were  very  sharp  and  cut  clean  and 
quickly,  but  years  of  growth  had  formed 
a  felt-like  covering  on  the  head  of 
Brother  Tyndal  which  resisted  the 
blades  deliciously.  Again  and  again  she 
thrust  the  glittering  shears,  listening  to 
them  crunch  their  way  through  the  soft, 
resisting  mass  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure. 
A  demon  of  destruction  seized  the  girl, 
and  she  slashed  viciously  in  every  direc 
tion  across  and  around  the  head  of 
Brother  Tyndal.  The  victim  stirred  un 
easily. 

"Come    away,"    whispered    Brother 
Wiggins,  pulling  at  her  skirts,  "come 
away.    Yo's  done  noble,  but  he  am  gwine 
tuh  wake  up.    Come  away." 
86 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

With  a  parting  clash  of  her  shears 
Melinda  obeyed,  and  the  conspirators 
stole  swiftly  homeward. 

Tyndal,  Son  of  Thunder,  yawned  and 
sat  upright.  Such  was  the  thickness  and 
tenaciousness  of  his  hair  that  in  spite 
of  the  recent  attack  most  of  it  still  clung 
together  upon  his  head,  although  ready 
to  fall  apart  at  the  touch  of  a  finger. 
He  realized  that  he  had  been  asleep  and 
feared  he  was  late  for  church,  therefore 
he  hurried  off  without  the  usual  caress 
to  his  head.  The  route  of  Brother  Tyn 
dal  was  marked  by  stray  locks  of  black 
hair,  which  fell  here  and  there  by  the 
wayside  unnoticed. 

And  he  was  very  late.  The  congrega 
tion,  taxing  to  the  utmost  the  limited 
capacity  of  Zion,  had  been  impatiently 
waiting  for  the  best  part  of  an  hour. 
Brother  Tyndal  hurried,  perspiring, 
into  the  pulpit. 

87 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"We  will  jine  in  singin'  'Mary  and 
Ma 'thy 's  jes'  gone  along/  "  he  an 
nounced,  wiping  his  glistening  forehead. 
A  thick  lock  of  black  hair  remained  in 
his  fingers  when  he  withdrew  his  hand 
from  his  brow.  Brother  Tyndal  laid  it 
on  the  pulpit  before  him  and  stared  long 
and  earnestly,  then  cautiously  felt  the 
crown  of  his  head ;  a  second  ringlet  lay 
upon  the  pulpit  beside  the  first.  A  few 
youthful  spirits  giggled  outright,  and 
the  preacher  shook  his  head  at  them  re 
provingly  ;  quite  a  shower  of  black  locks 
fell  upon  the  floor  around  him.  Brother 
Tyndal  sank  upon  his  sofa,  dazed  and 
mortified;  at  last  he  struggled  to  his 
feet  and  strove  to  address  his  flock. 

"Meh  brothahs  an'  meh  sistahs,"  he 
began, '  '  I  dunno  whut  have  done  happen 
tuh  me.  I  tuck  some  needful  res '  in  meh 
back  gyahdin  in  de  quietude  of  de  byhds 
an'  de  flowahs " 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

"Beckon  Brothah  Tyndal  been  sleep- 
in'  wid  de  byhds  so  frequent  he  done 
begin  tuh  moult,"  called  a  voice  from 
the  rear  bench  on  the  left-hand  side. 

' '  'Peahs  tuh  me  tuh  zemble  de  tuckey 
buzzahd  moj  en  de  byhds  of  de  gyah- 
din,"  quickly  responded  an  occupant  of 
the  corresponding  bench  on  the  right, 
and  a  ripple  of  irrepressible  laughter 
stirred  the  congregation.  Indeed,  the 
pastor  presented  a  sufficiently  ludicrous 
spectacle  to  excuse  this  procedure,  for 
here  and  there  a  long  lock  had  escaped 
the  vigilance  of  Melinda  and  stood 
boldly  erect,  or  hung  at  right  angles  to 
the  various  almost  bald  spots  scattered 
thickly  over  his  cranium.  No  wonder 
the  congregation  laughed! 

"Ain'  yo'  got  no  'spec'  fuh  de  sahvent 
o"  de  Lawd?"  he  shouted  angrily,  trying 
vainly  to  regain  his  receding  supremacy. 

"I  proposes,"  continued  the  voice  of 
89 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

the  tormenter,  "dat  we  c'lects  de  haiah 
an'  makes  it  intuh  mat'resses;  reckon 
hit  mought  go  roun'  de  congregation." 
Verily  the  strength  of  Samson  had 
departed. 

Brother  Wiggins  sat  in  the  pulpit  of 
Little  Bethel  the  Sunday  following  the 
events  just  recounted,  and  viewed  with 
satisfaction  the  return  of  his  straying 
lambs  to  the  fold. 

"I  rises  to  renounce,"  he  remarked, 
when  the  benches  were  all  full,  "I  rises 
to  renounce  dat  de  shanty  ovah  de  bridge 
dat  some  folks  called  de  Chu'ch  o'  Zion 
am  done  shet  up  fuh  good  an'  all.  De 
Swo'd  o'  Jedgmint  have  done  fell  heavy 
on  de  haid  o '  dat  zumptious  niggah  whut 
zumed  tuh  call  hisse'f  de  Son  o'  Thun- 
dah.  Sich  am  de  fate  o9  de  sinful.  I 
didn'  say  nawthin'  when  yo'  done  tuck 
yo'se'fs  ovah  tuh  Zion,  'caze  I  knowed 
90 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

de  Lawd  gwine  tub  stan'  by  me  an'  Little 
Bethel.  An'  He  done  so;  y-a-a-s,  He 
done  so." 

"Hallelujah,  praise  de  Lawd!" 
shouted  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs  suddenly. 

"He  done  cleave  de  haid  o'  de  up- 
staht, ' '  continued  the  preacher,  when  he 
could  make  himself  heard — "y-a-a-s, 
dat's  whut  He  done.  De  Swo'd  o'  Ven- 
gince  done  come  down  f ' om  heav'n  while 
he  slep'  an'  pull  de  haiahs  o'  'ception 
outen  he  haid.  An'  whut's  mo,  meh 
frien's,  de  Lawd  up  an'  done  dis  pious 
ack  'thout  no  wo'ds  f'om  me;  He  done 
lay  de  upstaht  low  an'  'prive  him  of  de 
wicked  haiah  dat  he  done  kunjah  wid. 
Sich  am  de  konsekinses  o'  sinfulness; 
sich  am  de  fate  o'  de  biggoty!  May  de 
flamin'  Swo'd  keep  on  fallin'  on  dem 
whut  zerts  Little  Bethel,  may  de 
ban' " 

"A-a-amen,"  called  Aunt  Martha 
91 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Young,  unable  to  keep  silence  longer, 
"glory!  glory!  hallelujah!" 

And  the  foundation  of  Little  Bethel 
rocked  with  the  fervent  thanksgivings 
of  its  returned  flock. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  deserted  Zion 
stood  Samson,  shorn  indeed  of  his 
strength  and  bitter  in  his  denunciations 
of  his  shearer.  Brother  Tyndal  had 
been  obliged  to  visit  the  barber,  and  the 
result  was  not  pleasing  to  him.  By  his 
side  was  Melinda;  she  had  cast  her  lot 
with  that  of  her  discomfited  swain  and 
had  promised  to  comfort  him  by  be 
coming  Mrs.  Tyndal  and  seeking  other 
fields  than  Poketown,  but  her  guilty 
secret  became  oppressive  at  times.  She 
still  feared  some  harm  might  come  to 
her. 

"I  likes  yo'  lots  bettah  'thout  all  dat 
haiah,"  she  remarked  tentatively. 
92 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

"Jes*  lemme  git  hoi'  o'  de  pusson 
whut  done  it,"  he  said  grimly,  "dat's 
all.  Jes'  lemme  git  meh  ban'  on  him." 

Melinda  slipped  her  hand  lovingly 
within  his  arm. 

"Would  yo'  slew  him  wid  yo'  jaw 
bone?"  she  inquired,  her  thoughts  im 
mediately  recurring  to  that  dreaded 
instrument  of  destruction.  She  had  re 
solved  to  institute  a  thorough  search 
for  it  and  to  conceal  it  forever  when  she 
should  have  free  access  to  all  the  pos 
sessions  of  Brother  Tyndal — after  they 
were  married. 

"I  reckon,"  returned  that  gentleman 
thoughtfully, ' '  dat  dis  yeah  am  a  'casion 
fuh  razahs,  er  fuh  fistesses,  mo'  en  fuh 
jaws." 

A  loud  burst  of  thanksgiving  arose 

from  brilliantly  lighted  Little  Bethel, 

which  was  plainly  visible  from  where 

they    stood.      Brother    Tyndal    turned 

93 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

towards  Zion,  dark  and  silent,  the  scene 
of  his  triumphs  and  also  of  his  humilia 
tion. 

"Jes'  lemme  git  hoi'  on  him  onct," 
he  muttered.  ' '  Jes '  lemme  lay  meh  hand 
on  him  onct,  0  Lawd!  Jes'  onct." 

Melinda  laid  her  head  affectionately 
upon  his  shoulder. 

" Honey,"  she  said,  "I's  gwine  tuh 
he'p  yo'  look  fuh  dat  sinful  pusson." 

"I  only  axes  tuh  tech  him  onct,"  he 
repeated,  his  arm  about  her  slender 
waist. 

"Me  an'  yo',"  she  responded,  <fam 
gwine  tuh  look  fuh  him  all  de  time.  Jes ' 
wait  twell  7  gits  hoi'  on  him.  I's  gwine 
tuh  show  him  whut  I  thinks  o'  sech 
ackshuns.  I  has  meh  own  'pinions 
'bout  'em.  Yo'  ain'  gwine  tuh  fin' 
him  'thout  me,  honey;  we'll  jes'  lay 
holt  on  de  wicked  pusson  whenevah  we 
ketches  him." 

94 


LOUD     BURST     OF     THANKSGIVING    AROSE     FROM 
LITTLE    BETHEL. 


AN     UNWILLING     DELILAH 

"Dat's  so,"  responded  unsuspicious 
Brother  Tyndal,  "yo's  pow'ful  peaht, 
Melindy.  I  reckons  maybe  yo '  kin  be  of 
some  'sistance  tuh  me,  ef  yo'  is  a  lady." 

And  Melinda  smiled  quietly  as  she 
changed  the  subject. 


IV 

THE  ASS  THAT  VANQUISHED 
BALAAM 


yo'  say  de  kerrege  kep' 
a-movinT'  inquired  Mrs.  Finney. 

"Dey  wa'n't  nawthin'  a-pullin',"  re 
turned  her  husband,  "an'  dey  wa'n't 
nawthin'  a-pushin',  yit  sho's  yo'  bawn, 
Ma'y  Jane,  dat  kerrege  come  down  de 
road  todes  me  lickety-split,  wid  smoke 
a-bustin'  outen  de  back." 

"Sho'  now!"  she  exclaimed  incredu 
lously. 

"Hit  stop  befo'  de  pos'-offis,"  he  con 
tinued,  "an'  I  sez  tuh  de  man  settin'  up 
in  it,  'Mistah,'  I  sez,  'huccum  dat  ker 
rege  tuh  run  'thout  no  annymile  tuh  pull 
it?'  sez  I.  He  up  an'  sez  tuh  me,  he  sez, 
kinder  shoht-like,  'Kerrysene,'  sez  he. 
96 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

Dem  wuh  his  wo'ds,  Ma'y  Jane ;  'Kerry- 
sene,'  he  sez." 

"Laws!" 

"An*  so,"  resumed  Mr.  Finney  argu- 
mentatively,  "ef  his  buggy  kin  run  wid 
kerrysene,  my  buggy  kin  run  dat  a-way 
too." 

"Whuh  yo'  gwine  tuh  git  de  ile?"  de 
manded  Mary  Jane  practically.  "I 
reckon  it  take  a  pow'ful  lot  tuh  wuck  a 
buggy." 

"Hit  do,"  he  agreed  sadly,  "hit  sut- 
tinly  do." 

"Of  co'se,"  she  suggested,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  "yo  mought  trade  off 
'Liza." 

"I  mought,"  returned  Mr.  Finney 
imperturbably,  "an'  yit,  ag'in,  I 
moughtn'." 

Out  in  the  back  yard  Eliza  herself,  a 
small  brown  mule  of  dejected  mien, 
stood  quietly  in  a  corner  with  one  hip 
7  97 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

drooping  mournfully.  A  close  observer 
might  have  detected  a  certain  peculiar 
ity  about  her  anatomy  in  connection 
with  her  hind  legs,  which  seemed  to  be 
hinged  on  to  her  body  rather  than  ad 
justed  in  the  usual  manner.  Eliza 
stretched  her  neck  and  yawned  exhaust 
ively,  displaying  an  alarming  amount  of 
red  gum. 

"Gwine  tuh  rain,  sho's  yo'  bawn," 
remarked  Mr.  Finney,  looking  at  her 
admiringly;  "she  kin  tell  ev'ry  time, 
'Liza  kin." 

"Ef  dat's  so,"  announced  his  help 
meet,  as  she  put  away  her  ironing-board, 
"yo  got  tuh  hitch  up  dat  meule  an'  tote 
dese  clo'es  home  'mejately;  de  sun  am 
done  set  now,  an*  yo'  ain'  gwine  tuh  git 
no  suppah  twell  de  clo'es  goes  home. 
Does  yo'  hyah  me  talkin'?" 

Mr.  Finney  reluctantly  arose  from  the 
doorstep  and  prepared  to  perform  his 
98 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

weekly  task  of  taking  home  the  laundry 
of  various  neighboring  families.  He 
pushed  out  his  old  buggy,  produced  a 
set  of  harness  much  mended  with  rope, 
and  approached  his  steed.  Eliza  rolled 
her  eyes  until  only  the  whites  were  visi 
ble  and  waited  patiently.  Her  master 
regarded  her  with  unwonted  interest  as 
he  drew  near.  He  was  disposed  to  be 
friendly. 

"Ain'  gwine  tuh  trade  yo'  off  fuh 
no  kerrysene,"  he  muttered,  laying  his 
hand  affectionately  upon  her  flank. 

There  was  a  sudden  twinkling  of  small 
heels  as  Eliza's  hind  quarters  flew  up 
and  out  as  though  moved  by  a  powerful 
mechanism.  Mr.  Finney  sat  upon  the 
ground  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  yard 
with  a  dazed  expression.  Crawling  to 
the  fence,  he  leaned  against  it  to  regain 
his  breath,  rubbing  his  head  ruefully 
meanwhile  and  looking  askance  at  Eliza, 
99 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

who  had  resumed  her  former  pensive 
attitude. 

"Knocked  de  breff  clean  outen  him 
dat  time,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Finney  from 
the  kitchen  window. 

It  was  evident  nothing  very  unusual 
had  occurred  from  the  ordinary  routine 
of  harnessing  the  mule. 

"How  yo'  gwine  tuh  make  de  buggy 
trabbel,  s'pos'n'  yo'  gits  de  ile?"  in 
quired  Mary  Jane  thoughtfully  as  her 
husband  rose  and  stood  uncertainly 
upon  his  feet. 

"I  takes  de  shaf's  off  en  de  front  o' 
de  buggy,"  he  explained  pompously, 
"an'  splices  a  han'le  tuh  de  axle  so's 
tuh  steeah  wid.  Den  I  puts  de  kerry- 
sene  intuh  a  kittle  an7  sets  a  match  tuh 
it.  Bat's  all." 

"S'pos'n'  it  take  an'  splo'?"  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Finney  nervously. 

"Laws!"  he  returned  impatiently, 
100 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

"ain'  de  kittle  got  a  spout  fuh  de  steam 
tuh  come  thu '  ?  Whut  yo '  s  'pose  a  spout 
am  fuh?  Tell  me  dat.  Hit's  de  span- 
sion  whut  busies  b'ilahs  an*  sich — not 
de  stuff  whut  span*.  Yo'  sho'ly  am  a 
'no '-nothing  Ma'y  Jane;  I's  'shamed 
of  yo',  dat's  whut  I  is — 'shamed." 

"I  don'  see  nohow  whut  gwine  tuh 
tote  de  buggy,"  retorted  Mrs.  Finney, 
unabashed. 

"De  ile,"  said  her  husband  patroniz 
ingly,  "gits  tuh  b'ilin',  an'  de  kittle  am 
jammed  in  tight  undah  de  seat.  She 
puff  an'  she  blow ;  she  puff  an'  she  blow, 
same  ez  de  steam  cyahs,  an'  ev'ry  time 
she  puff  an'  blow  de  buggy-wheels  goes 
roun'." 

With  some  ingenuity  on  the  part  of 
her  owner  Eliza  was  induced  to  take  her 
place  between  the  shafts,  the  hamper  of 
clean  clothes  was  hoisted  into  place,  and 
all  was  ready  for  the  start. 
101 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Ma'y  Jane,"  commanded  Mr.  Fin- 
ney,  "fetch  de  kittle. " 

"Whiit  yo'  talkin'  'bout?"  returned 
Mrs.  Finney  derisively. 

"Fotch  de  kittle, "  he  continued;  "I's 
gwine  tuh  come  home  'thout  no  lazy,  no- 
'count  meule.  I's  gwine  tuh  git  de 
kerrysene  somehow  an'  come  traipsin' 
down  de  road,  settin'  back  takin'  meh 
ease,  same  ez  de  kerrege  I  done  tole  yo' 
'bout.  Fetch  de  kittle." 

"Honey,"  said  Mrs.  Finney,  unwill 
ingly  producing  her  new  teakettle,  "is 
yo'  sho'  de  wo'd  he  done  say  wuh  kerry- 
sene?" 

"Woman,"  he  returned  majestically, 
"don'  yo'  ahgify  wid  me.  I's  a  man,  I 
is,  an'  I  knows  whut  I  knows.  Fotch  de 
kittle." 

"Good-by,  kittle,"  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Finney  mournfully  as  she  watched  the 
exodus  of  the  buggy. 

102 


THE   VICTORIOUS  ASS 

"Yo*  suttinly  am  de  mos'  zumptious, 
low-down,  triflin'  annymile  de  good 
Lawd  evah  made,"  remarked  Mr.  Fin- 
ney  to  his  steed  as  they  journeyed  leis 
urely  along,  "an'  I's  gwine  tuh  swop 
yo'  off,  dat's  whut  I's  gwine  tuh  do." 

Eliza  groaned  heavily  in  response.  It 
was  her  custom  to  grunt  or  moan  at 
every  revolution  of  the  wheels.  At  the 
foot  of  the  hill  she  stopped  abruptly.  It 
was  evident  she  had  an  idea. 

"Gwan,"  said  Mr.  Finney  encour 
agingly. 

The  wisp  of  a  tail  was  pressed  close 
to  her  body  as  the  mule  moved  her  hind 
quarters  suggestively.  Her  driver  de 
scended  hastily. 

"Ef  yo's  gwine  tuh  hump  yo'se'f," 
he  said,  "I  suttinly  ain'  got  no  call  tuh 
set  back  o '  yo '. " 

Eliza  stood  at  the  base  of  the  hill  ap 
parently  quite  satisfied  with  her  sur- 
103 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

roundings,  while  her  discomfited  owner 
revolved  about  her  on  the  roadside. 

"Sticks  ain'  no  good,  'caze  o7  de  tux- 
tah  of  huh  hide,"  he  said  finally,  "an' 
duht  in  huh  mouf  ain'  no  good,  nuthah, 
'caze  she  up  an  swallahs  it  like  it  wuh 
oats.  Ps  got  tuh  lead  huh,  dat's  whut 
Fs  got  tuh  do.  Come  on  hyah." 

The  last  remark  was  accompanied  by 
a  vicious  tug  at  the  bridle.  Eliza  will 
ingly  complied;  she  was  an  excellent 
illustration  of  the  type  of  humanity 
which  can  be  led  but  not  driven. 

The  Eeverend  Kinnard  Brice  sat  upon 
the  roadside  and  gazed  at  his  feet.  They 
were  large  and  substantial,  but  very 
tired  and  quite  incapable  of  adding 
another  mile  to  the  many  they  had 
already  travelled  that  day,  yet  tramp 
they  must  to  reach  their  destination. 
He  looked  furtively  about;  apparently 
104 


THK    REV.    KINNARD    BRICK    GAZED    AT    HIS    FEET. 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

he  was  alone.  From  his  trousers-pocket 
he  drew  a  flat  black  bottle,  which  he  ap 
plied  to  his  lips ;  his  air  as  he  replaced 
the  cork  was  somewhat  more  genial. 

"I  done  preach  down  tuh  de  Buck  las' 
night  fuh  de  mattah  o'  ten  cents,"  he 
soliloquized,  "an'  I  done  preach  ovah 
in  Noo  Jahsey  all  summah  fuh  de  mat 
tah  o'  seventy-five  cents.  Beckon  dey's 
some  folks  gits  dey  'ligion  pow'ful 
cheap. ' ' 

Shaking  his  head  mournfully  over  the 
degeneracy  of  mankind,  he  pensively 
removed  the  cork  again,  but  hastily  re 
placed  it  as  the  rattle  of  an  approaching 
vehicle  became  audible. 

A  small  procession  was  indeed  near 
at  hand.  First  appeared  Mr.  Finney, 
short  in  stature  and  deprecating  in  man 
ner;  even  the  tuft  of  gray  whiskers  on 
the  edge  of  his  chin  seemed  to  wag  apolo 
getically  as  he  labored  along;  after  Mr. 
105 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Finney  followed  Eliza,  weary  in  aspect 
and  meek  in  demeanor;  the  mere  effort 
of  performing  to  the  best  of  her  ability 
the  work  expected  of  her  had  apparently 
exhausted  her  entire  vitality;  after 
Eliza  came  the  buggy,  guiltless  of  paint 
and  minus  a  top;  the  fact  that  all  the 
spokes  in  the  wheels  curved  decidedly 
outward  and  that  most  of  the  boards  in 
the  floor  were  loose  perhaps  assisted  in 
producing  the  peculiar  rattling  sound 
which  heralded  their  approach. 

" Howdy,  Brothah  Brice,  howdy?" 
said  Mr.  Finney,  calling  a  halt  in  the 
line  of  march. 

" Howdy,  Brothah  Finney?"  returned 
the  other.  "How  do  yo'  co'porocity 
segashiate  dis  evenin'?" 

"Tol'able,"  returned  Mr.  Finney 
guardedly,  "jes'  toPable,  thanky." 

It  was  not  etiquette  in  Poketown  to 
acknowledge  robust  health.  Mr.  Brice 
106 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

looked  sympathetically  at  his  feet  and 
enviously  at  the  unoccupied  vehicle. 

"Whuh  yo'  gwine?"  he  inquired  inci 
dentally  as  Mr.  Finney  seated  himself 
on  the  roadside. 

"Fs  gwine  tuh  de  sto'  tuh  trade  off 
dat  no- 'count  annymile  fuh  kerrysene 
tuh  run  meh  buggy  wid,"  he  announced 
pompously.  "Meules  am  ole  style  now; 
kerrysene  am  all  de  go.  Fs  gwine " 

The  neck  of  the  black  bottle  pro 
truding  from  the  pocket  of  Mr.  Brice 
caught  the  eye  of  his  companion  and 
checked  his  flow  of  eloquence.  His  coun 
tenance  suddenly  became  distorted  as 
with  pain,  and  he  rocked  himself  to  and 
fro  in  apparent  anguish. 

"De  mis'ry,"  he  gasped;  "hit  done 
ketch  me  twell  it  take  meh  breff.  De 
mis'ry  in  meh  back.  Oh,  fuh  a  sip  o' 
brandy  tuh  tech  de  spot!" 

Mr.  Brice  slowly  produced  his  bottle. 
107 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"A  little  apple-jack,"  he  explained, 
"dat  I  wuh  gwine  tuh  tote  tuh  po'  ole 
Ann'  Judy.  Put  it  tuh  yo'  lips,  Brothah 
Finney." 

Brother  Finney  complied,  and  Brother 
Brice  also  sipped  absently  before  re 
placing  the  cork. 

Now  the  store  which  Mr.  Finney  had 
announced  as  his  destination  was  dia 
metrically  opposite  to  the  direction  Mr. 
Brice  desired  to  pursue.  He  considered 
the  situation  thoughtfully,  while  the  red 
rim  of  the  moon  appeared  over  the  edge 
of  the  adjacent  woods,  and  Eliza  drooped 
her  hip  and  waited  patiently. 

"Brothah  Finney, "  he  said  at  last, 
tendering  the  bottle,  "whut  dat  yo'  done 
say  'bout  kerrysene?" 

Mr.  Finney  repeated  his  intention  of 
transforming  his  buggy  into  an  auto 
mobile  by  means  of  kerosene  oil. 

"An'  is  yo'  gwine  tuh  swop  away  a 
108 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

faithful  frien'  fuh  a  mess  o'  ile!"  in 
quired  Mr.  Brice  reproachfully. 

"A  no- 'count,  low-down,  wuthless 
annymile,"  said  Mr.  Finney  sternly, 
wiping  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his 
hand. 

"Take  keer  whut  yo'  sez,  0  Man  o' 
Sin!"  proclaimed  Brother  Brice  as 
from  the  pulpit.  "Does  yo'  know  yo' 
am  speechifyin'  'bout  a  sacred  anny- 
mile,  b 'loved  by  de  Lawd?  'Membah 
Balaam;  'membah  de  angil  whut  done 
stan'  in  de  path;  'membah  de  ass  whut 
up  an'  spoke  out  in  meetin'  'caze  Balaam 
tuck  an'  beat  huh.  'Membah  all  dat, 
Brothah  Finney,  an'  go  slow  'bout  yo' 
tradin' — go  slow." 

"Asses  am  asses,"  argued  Mr.  Fin 
ney;  "dey  ain'  nawthin'  in  de  Good 
Book  'bout  a'  ornery  tow-path  meule; 
reckon  dey  ain'  'quainted  wid  no  angils 
nohow. ' ' 

109 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Meules  am  asses,"  returned  Brother 
Brice,  again  quenching  his  thirst;  "I's 
done  been  sanctified,  I  has,  an'  I  knows 
whut's  sacred  an'  whut's  not.  De  meule 
am  done  been  selected, — he's  done 
been  s'lected, — same  ez  Balaam, — done 
s'lected " 

The  voice  of  Brother  Brice  grew 
thicker  and  trailed  off  uncertainly. 

The  apple-jack  was  strong  as  well  as 
sweet.  Mr.  Finney  felt  genial  and  pleas 
ant;  the  world  presented  no  cares; 
Mary  Jane  at  home  and  the  basket  of 
undelivered  clothes  were  alike  forgotten. 
Mr.  Brice,  on  the  contrary,  became  rest 
less  and  argumentative ;  he  felt  that  he 
was  due  somewhere,  but  where  he  knew 
not.  To  convince  all  men  of  the  in 
spired  condition  of  Eliza  seemed  to  be 
his  chief  object  in  life.  They  sat  upon 
the  roadside  exchanging  the  bottle  until 
its  contents  were  exhausted,  when  they 
110 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

continued  politely  passing  it  back  and 
forth. 

"Le's  go  set  in  de  buggy, "  suggested 
Mr.  Brice  finally. 

"Jes'  ez  yo'  'zires,"  returned  Mr. 
Finney,  smiling  vacantly,  "jes'  ez  yo' 
'zires,  Brothah." 

"Yo'  an'  Balaam,"  said  Mr.  Brice  as 
his  companion  hoisted  himself  slowly 
into  the  buggy,  "done  been  chose  by  de 
Lawd  tuh  keep  comp'ny  wid  a  sacred 
ass.  I  know  it  by  de  signs  o'  de  zodiac." 

"De  zodiac,"  repeated  Mr.  Finney, 
still  smiling,  "de  zodiac." 

"An  yit,"  continued  the  preacher, 
rising  and  walking  unsteadily  forward, 
"you  don'  'preciate  yo'  blessings  no  mo' 
en  ole  Balaam  'predated  his'n.  Yo'  talk 
'bout  dem  mobbles ! ' ' 

"Mobbles?"  repeated  Mr.  Finney, 
with  his  pleasant  smile;  "whut  mob 
bles?" 

Ill 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Otty  mobbles,"  rejoined  Brother 
Brice  with  a  visible  effort.  "I  done  seen 
'em  in  Noo  Jahsey.  What's  a  mobble 
made  by  de  han'  o'  man  tuh  a  meule 
made  by  de  han'  o'  Gawd?  Mobbles 
splo's  an'  bus'es.  Do  a  meule  evah  bus'? 
Tell  me  dat,  Brothah  Finney?" 

"Splo's  an'  bus'es,"  repeated  Mr. 
Finney  pleasantly. 

"Yo's  drunk,  yo'  Chile  o'  Wicked 
ness,"  proclaimed  Brother  Brice,  lurch 
ing  heavily  forward;  "yo's  done  tuck 
too  much  apple-jack.  In  de  presence  o' 
dis  sacred  annymile  yo's  drunk.  Hide 
yo'  face,  Brothah  Finney,  hide  yo'  face 
ez  I  hides  mine,  tuh  shet  out  dis  'grace 
ful  sight." 

He  leaned  upon  the  shafts  and  rested 
his  head  upon  the  drooping  flank  of  the 
mule.  Eliza  flattened  her  ears  and  low 
ered  her  head ;  there  was  a  sudden,  swift 
movement,  and  Brother  Brice  lay  upon 
112 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

a  bed  of  Spanish  needles  at  the  other 
side  of  the  road. 

"Hobbles  made  by  de  han'  o'  man/' 
repeated  Mr.  Finney  from  the  buggy, 
"an'  meules  made  by  de  han'  o'  Gawd." 

"Hit  ain'  fun  mor-sh-z-al  man,"  said 
Brother  Brice,  as  he  slowly  resumed  an 
upright  position,  "tuh  tech  dem  whut 
am  s'lected  tuh  be  sacred." 

He  clambered  into  the  buggy  and  took 
up  the  reins. 

1  i  Hyah  we  sets, ' '  he  announced  thickly, 
"twell  de  sperrit  move  huh  tuh  precede. 
'Tain't  fuh  us  tuh  hurry  huh." 

"Hyah  we  sets,"  agreed  Mr.  Finney, 
wagging  his  beard  cheerfully. 

At  this  point  the  spirit  moved  Eliza 
and  she  started  suddenly,  the  unexpect 
edness  of  her  act  causing  the  two  men 
to  lurch  backward  dangerously.  Mr. 
Finney  caught  at  the  seat  of  the  buggy 
to  regain  his  balance,  but  Mr.  Brice 
8  113 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

clung  desperately  to  one  rein.  Eliza, 
obeying  the  intimation  of  the  rein,  turned 
swiftly  from  the  main  road  and  plunged 
down  a  lane  leading  into  the  woods. 
Apparently  it  was  but  little  used,  for 
overhanging  branches  of  trees  threat 
ened  to  decapitate  the  intruders,  while 
deep  ruts  cruelly  wrenched  the  wheels 
of  the  feeble  vehicle. 

1 1  Whoa ! ' '  shouted  Mr.  Finney  as  Eliza 
sped  into  the  darkness  with  alarming 
speed. 

"Seek  not  tuh  ahgify  wid  huh,"  ad 
vised  Mr.  Brice,  holding  on  as  best  he 
could  while  the  clothesbasket  bobbed 
wildly  about  behind  them,  "hit  may  be 
she  hyah  a  Voice  a-callin'  tuh  huh." 

The  branch  of  a  sumac  lifted  several 
small  articles  from  the  top  of  the  bas 
ket;  succeeding  branches  did  likewise. 
Mr.  Finney  reached  for  the  reins  and 
jerked  them  violently,  but  Eliza  galloped 
114 


THE   VICTOEIOUS   ASS 

on  unheeding.  A  portion  of  a  wild 
grapevine  snatched  a  white  garment 
which  slowly  unfolded  as  the  buggy  rat 
tled  on;  it  proved  to  be  a  nightgown 
caught  by  the  neck,  which  as  it  swung 
to  and  fro  presented  a  ghostly  aspect. 

On  they  dashed,  swerving  first  one 
way  and  then  another,  their  route 
marked  by  various  articles  of  feminine 
apparel,  which  looked  pathetically  lone 
some  in  their  uncongenial  surroundings. 
Now  this  lane  was  merely  a  loop  of  road 
extending  in  a  circle  through  the  woods, 
whose  only  exit  was  the  gate  by  which 
they  had  entered.  Consequently  it  was 
possible  to  continue  driving  indefinitely 
about  the  circle,  and  Eliza  with  every 
leap  drew  nearer  the  completion  of  the 
first  round. 

It  was  very  dark;  the  rays  of  the 
moon,  penetrating  fitfully  here  and  there 
through  the  thick  tangle  of  leaves,  cast 
115 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

pale  and  flickering  lights  in  unexpected 
places.  Overhead  an  occasional  owl 
hooted,  or  the  whirr  of  wings  disclosed 
a  frightened  bird  rising  from  its  nest  as 
the  rattling  vehicle  passed  swiftly  by. 

"  'Lijah,  he  done  went  tuh  heav'n  in 
a  cha'iot  o'  fiah,"  hazarded  Mr.  Brice 
as  they  bumped  rapidly  onward.  "Say 
yo'  prayahs,  Brothah  Finney,  say  yo' 
prayahs;  we's  gwine  tuh  be  drawed 
offen  de  yearth  by  dis  meule.  Huh  laigs 
am  changin'  intuh  wings,  an'  well  I 
knows  it.  Say  yo'  prayahs,  Brother  Fin 
ney,  we's  gwine  tuh  mount  uppahds, 
sho's  yo'  bawn." 

But  Mr.  Finney,  sawing  desperately 
at  the  mouth  of  his  steed,  had  no  time 
for  prayer.  Instead,  he  suddenly  slack 
ened  his  hold  on  the  reins,  and  leaning 
out  over  the  dashboard  lashed  the  gal 
loping  animal  with  them. 

"Gwan,"  he  shouted,  "gwan,  I  tells 
116 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

yo'.  Who  wants  yo'  tub  stop,  anyhow? 
Keep  a-goin' — keep  a-goin'." 

And  Eliza  sped  on. 

1  i  Whut  y o '  doin '  1' '  demanded  Brother 
Brice,  clinging  to  the  seat  as  the  buggy 
careened  alarmingly;  "yo'  done  tuck 
and  struck  huh,  same  ez  Balaam.  Yo' 
done  'fend  de  Lawd,  same  ez  Balaam. 
Say  yo'  prayahs,  Brothah  Finney,  say 
yo'  prayahs." 

"Dey  ain'  no  othah  way  tuh  stop 
huh,"  panted  Mr.  Finney.  "Gwan,  yo' 
Chile  o'  Satan — gwan." 

He  repeated  his  application  of  the 
ends  of  the  reins  as  he  spoke. 

"De  Lawd  fuhgive  yo'  dat  ack,"  ejac 
ulated  Mr.  Brice  piously. 

Now  the  loop  of  the  road  had  been 
once  accomplished  and  they  were  some 
distance  on  the  second  round.  As  Eliza 
threw  up  both  head  and  heels  in  response 
to  her  master's  appeal,  the  nightgown 
117 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

suspended  from  the  wild  grapevine  flut 
tered  directly  across  her  path  and  she 
stopped  suddenly  and  entirely.  The 
abruptness  of  her  act  precipitated  both 
passengers  upon  the  roadside,  where 
they  lay  face  downward,  unharmed  but 
terrified.  Eliza  brayed  loud  and  long. 

1  'She  gwine  tuh  speak  out  in  meetin V' 
quavered  Brother  Brice;  "de  angil  wid 
de  swo'd  am  done  com  tuh  light.  Say 
yo'  prayahs,  Brothah  Finney,  say  yo' 
prayahs;  she  gwine  tuh  speak." 

"Whut  she  gwine  tuh  say?"  whis 
pered  Mr.  Finney,  his  tones  somewhat 
muffled  from  his  recumbent  position. 

"De  ass  done  say  tuh  Balaam,"  re 
turned  Mr.  Brice,  "  'Whuff or  yo'  done 
hit  me?'  Dat  whut  it  say,  an'  dat  whut 
she  gwine  tuh  say,  sho's  yo'  bawn.  De 
angil  am  gwine  tuh  smote  yo'  wid  de 
flamin'  swo'd  'caze  'Liza  she  done  got  a 
grudge  ag'in'  yo'  'caze  o'  dem  mobbles. 
118 


THE   VICTOEIOUS   ASS 

Say  yo'  prayahs,  Brothah  Finney,  say 
yo'  prayahs." 

Silence  ensued  for  some  minutes,  then 
Eliza  lifted  up  her  voice  and  spoke 
again.  Mr.  Finney  shivered,  expecting 
some  dreadful  calamity. 

"Twict,"  whispered  Mr.  Brice  appre 
hensively;  "ef  she  take  an'  call  three 
times,  de  angil  am  boun'  tuh  come." 

"Lawd,"  entreated  Mr.  Finney  ear 
nestly,  "look  down  on  me  an'  shet  huh 
mouf." 

But  Eliza  opened  her  mouth  and 
brayed  the  third  time. 

"Hit  am  comin',"  groaned  Brother 
Brice,  as  the  evening  breeze  stirred  the 
treetops;  "I  done  hyah  de  rus'le  o'  de 
wings. ' ' 

"I  feels  de  Presence,"  gasped  Mr. 
Finney. 

"HoP  on  tuh  de  gyahmints  o'  de  sanc 
tified,"  suggested  Brother  Brice,  tender- 
119 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

ing  a  dingy  coattail,  "hoP  on  tight,  O 
Man  o>  Sin!" 

Mr.  Finney  clutched  it  gratefully. 

"Brothah  Brice,"  he  inquired  weakly, 
"whut  does  yo'  see?" 

"Lif  yo'  haid,"  commanded  Brother 
Brice,  "when  I  counts  three;  lif  yo' 
haid  an'  peek,  same  ez  Fs  gwine  tuh  do." 

Through  a  rift  in  the  treetops  the  rays 
of  the  moon  fell  directly  upon  the  white 
garment  suspended  from  the  grapevine. 
The  evening  breeze  lifted  the  large  collar 
with  its  misty  frill  of  lace,  until  it  seemed 
to  form  a  halo  about  an  invisible  head; 
one  sleeve  swayed  gently  to  and  fro,  and 
finally  rested  protectingly  upon  the  at 
tenuated  neck  of  Eliza,  while  the  other 
hung  limply  down. 

"One,"  quavered  Mr.  Brice,  "two, 
three!" 

Both  heads  were  elevated  simulta 
neously  and  remained  raised,  transfixed 
120 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

with  terror.  Through  the  woods  the 
wind  sighed  mournfully.  It  stirred  the 
leaves  until  they  rustled  complainingly ; 
it  filled  out  the  empty  curves  of  the 
nightgown  until  they  seemed  to  assume 
mammoth  proportions;  it  lifted  the 
pendent  sleeve  until  it  was  extended  at 
right  angles,  pointing  directly  at  the 
unhappy  Finney. 

"Pray,"  he  gasped,  clinging  desper 
ately  to  the  garment  of  the  sanctified, 
"pray  fuh  me." 

"Lawd,"  murmured  Brother  Brice, 
moistening  his  ashen  lips,  "Lawd,  dese 
eyes  has  saw — dese  eyes  has  saw " 

But  Eliza,  interrupting  the  flow  of 
eloquence,  again  lifted  her  voice  in  pro 
test,  and  the  white  arm  was  raised  high 
in  the  air,  as  though  to  strike.  With  a 
loud  cry  of  terror  both  men  fell  again 
upon  their  faces. 

"Do  yo'  own  praying"  exclaimed  the 
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POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

sanctified,  twitching  his  coat  from  the 
grasp  of  his  erring  brother,  "make  yo' 
peace,  Brothah  Finney,  make  yo'  peace! 
I  ain'  gwine  tuh  be  sterminated  'caze  o' 
yo'  sins.  I  done  tole  yo'  de  meule  wuh 
sacred.  Do  yo'  own  prayin'!" 

"Lawd,"  gasped  Mr.  Finney,  his 
beard  wagging  tremulously,  "yo'  knows 
dat  Iluvs  Thou." 

"Splain  'bout  de  mobble,"  prompted 
Mr.  Brice,  "splain  tuh  de  angil." 

"I  takes  back  meh  wo'ds  'bout  de 
mobble,"  continued  Mr.  Finney  plead 
ingly.  "Is  yo'  gwine  tuh  smote  me  wid 
yo*  swo'd  'caze  o'  wo'ds  I  nevah  meant 
nohow?  Why  don'  yo'  drop  yo'  ahm 
easy-like?  Ef  yo's  boun'  tuh  split  a 
haid  befo'  yo'  gits  back  tuh  glory,  hyah's 
Brothah  Brice  mighty  handy;  his  haid 
am  pow'ful  sof ,  'twon't  be  no  trouble 
tuh  split  it  nohow." 

"Lawd,"  interrupted  Brother  Brice, 
122 


THE    VICTORIOUS   ASS 

crooking  his  elbow  to  protect  his  skull, 
"dem  am  de  wo'ds  of  a  wicked  an'  'ceit- 
ful  man.  Don'  yo'  pay  no  'tention  tuh 
'em  nohow." 

Silence  ensued  for  some  minutes. 

"Is  yo'  still  dah  wid  yo'  'vengeful 
swo'd?"  queried  Mr.  Finney  feebly, 
mustering  courage  to  look  up.  The  fig 
ure  was  indeed  still  present. 

"  'Liza,"  he  continued,  appealing 
pathetically  to  the  mule,  "  'Liza,  yo'  an* 
me  has  done  kep'  comp'ny  dis  many  a 
yeah;  I  done  treat  yo'  good,  'co'din' 
tuh  meh  lights.  When  yo'  wuh  pow'ful 
ornery  I  didn'  know  hit  wuh  jes'  de 
sacredness  a-bustin'  out.  I  done  tuck 
cyah  o'  yo'  dis  long  time;  is  yo'  gwine 
tuh  'zert  me  now?  Speak  a  good  wo'd 
fuh  me  tuh  de  angil,  'Liza ;  I  didn'  mean 
nawthin'  'bout  dem  mobbles." 

Crawling  dejectedly  along  the  ground, 
he  ventured  to  touch  the  hoof  of  the 
123 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

mule  in  timid  supplication.  Now  the 
patience  of  Eliza  had  been  sorely  tried 
that  night,  and  the  fumbling  of  a  hand 
about  her  hind  leg  proved  the  last  straw. 
With  a  vicious  squeal  she  dropped  her 
head  between  her  knees  and  began  to 
kick,  rapidly  and  effectively.  It  was 
short  work  to  release  herself  from  the 
buggy,  which  collapsed  at  once,  a  melan 
choly  wreck;  the  shafts,  however,  were 
still  attached  to  the  mule  as  she  started 
homeward,  and  one  of  them  jerked  the 
nightgown  from  the  grapevine  and 
dragged  it  along.  Eliza  sped  on,  the 
white  garment  fluttering  out  from  her 
shoulder,  and  the  two  men  sat  and 
watched  her  in  awestruck  silence.  It 
was  some  time  before  either  spoke. 

"BehoP  de  w'ite  wings  h'istin'  huh 
tuh  heav'n,"  said  Brother  Brice  at  last. 
"A  meule  no  longah,  'Liza  am  riz  tuh 
be  a  saint  in  glory.  Fall  on  yo'  knees 

124 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 
an'  wo 'ship  de  place  huh  feet  done  res' 


on." 


With  a  last  flap  of  her  newly  acquired 
wings  Eliza  vanished,  while  the  two  men 
humbly  knelt  beside  her  footprints. 

Mrs.  Finney  sat  upon  the  doorstep  and 
waited  for  the  return  of  her  husband. 
She  waited  a  long  time.  The  summer 
twilight  deepened  and  the  moon  rose 
high  in  the  heavens  and  still  she  waited. 
She  finally  became  somewhat  appre 
hensive. 

"Reckon  dat  kerrysene  mus'  of  tuck 
an'  splo',"  she  said  uneasily.  "Wisht 
I'd  done  heP  on  tuh  meh  kittle,  any 
how." 

The  clatter  of  approaching  hoofs 
became  audible,  and  Eliza  trotted  swiftly 
into  the  yard.  Mrs.  Finney  rose  and 
followed  her.  A  torn  and  dingy  gar 
ment  still  clung  to  the  broken  shaft. 
125 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

Mrs.  Finney  detached  it  and  examined 
it  with  interest. 

"Sakes  alive,"  she  exclaimed,  "ef 
'tain't  Miss  Lizzie's  bes'  ni'gown!" 

She  thoughtfully  resumed  her  seat 
upon  the  doorstep  and  waited  once  more. 
Two  melancholy  figures  drew  slowly 
near,  somewhat  apologetic  in  manner. 

' '  Dat  yo ',  Ma  'y  Jane  f ' '  said  one,  with 
the  visible  intention  of  making  conver 
sation. 

"Huccum  yo'  traipsin'  on  yo'  feet 
'stid  o'  settin'  up  in  de  buggy  takin'  yo' 
ease,  and  comin'  down  de  road  lickety- 
split?"  she  inquired  unkindly. 

"Mis'  Finney,"  said  Brother  Brice 
solemnly,  "a  merrycle  has  done  been 
'complished.  De  annymile  yo'  calls 
'Liza  have  done  sprouted  huh  wings  an' 
riz  tuh  heav'n." 

"Humph!"     ejaculated     the     lady. 
"Whuh  meh  kittle!" 
126 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

' '  Ma  'y  Jane, ' '  said  her  husband  hum 
bly,  "I  dunno.  I  tells  yo'  de  truf,  Ma'y 
Jane ;  I  dunno  whuh  yo '  kittle  am. ' ' 

"Whuh  de  clean  clo'es?"  she  next 
demanded. 

"Mis'  Finney,"  said  Brother  Brice, 
with  hand  extended  in  lofty  reproof, 
"men  ez  has  saw  merrycles  sech  ez  we 
have  saw  dis  night  ain'  got  no  time  tuh 
'membah  clean  clo'es." 

"Whut  yo'  say  done  happen  tuh 
'Liza?"  was  her  next  question. 

"  'Liza,"  said  the  preacher,  "done 
spread  huh  w'ite  wings  an'  mount  up- 
pahds.  'Liza  am  now  settin'  'mongst  de 
cherry bim  an'  de  serryphim  nigh  de 
throne,  soundin'  praises  night  an'  day." 

At  this  point  Eliza  in  the  back  yard 
expressed  a  desire  for  supper ;  the  two 
men  started  uneasily,  and  Mrs.  Finney 
rose  quietly. 

"Come  wid  me,"  she  commanded, 
127 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

taking  an  arm  of  each  and  escorting 
them  into  the  yard. 

"Yo*  stop  yo'  pack  o'  lies,"  she  said 
with  righteous  indignation,  pointing  to 
the  mule,  "  'Liza  done  run  home  long 
befo'  yo'  did.  Yo's  drunk,  anyhow. " 

"Ma'y  Jane,"  remonstrated  her  hus 
band,  "yo's  speechifyin'  tuh  yo'  pas- 
tah." 

"Well,"  she  said  angrily,  "I  kain' 
help  havin'  a  nose,  kin  II  Ain'  I  stand- 
in*  'twixt  yo'?  Whut's  a  nose  fuh  'cept 
tuh  smell  widf  Yo's  both  drunk;  well 
I  knows  de  signs  o'  de  times." 

She  seized  Mr.  Finney  by  the  collar 
and  dragged  him  to  a  pump,  conven 
iently  near  at  hand,  and  resolutely  bent 
his  head  beneath  the  spout. 

"Pump!"  she  commanded  her  pastor. 

"Sistah  Finney,"  he  expostulated 
with  dignity,  "I " 

"Aftah  I  gits  he  haid  clah,"  she  said 

128 


THE   VICTORIOUS   ASS 

firmly,  "we's  all  gwine  down  de  road 
tuh  c'lect  dem  clo'es.  Gwine — tuh — git 
— mo ' — w  'ite — wings — f  o ' —  'Liza.  Git 
tuh  pumpinV 

She  emphasized  her  remarks  concern 
ing  the  wings  by  vigorous  jerks  at  the 
head  of  her  unhappy  husband. 

"Brothah  Brice,"  gasped  the  luckless 
Finney,  "pump  quick  befo'  meh  neck 
gits  broke.  Don'  ahgify  wid  huh  no* 
mo'  'en  yo'  ahgified  wid  'Liza.  Beckon 
me  an'  Balaam  don'  take  much  stock  in 
asses  nohow.  Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake — 
pump ! ' ' 

"Git  tuh  wuck,"  reiterated  Mrs.  Fin 
ney,  one  hand  fastened  in  the  beard  of 
her  lord  and  master  and  the  other  firmly 
clinched  in  the  thatch  of  wool  on  top  of 
his  head,  thus  safely  holding  him  in  posi 
tion,  "what's  Balaam  tuh  me?  Reckon 
he  mus'  ov  kep'  de  s'loon  yo'  all  done 
been  tuh  dis  night.  Git  tuh  wuck.  Dem 
9  129 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

clo'es  has  got  tub  be  c'lected  an'  de 
meule  am  got  tub  be  fed.  We  ain'  got 
no  buggy  now  tub  run  wid  kerrysene  or 
meules  neitbab,  'caze  o'  dis  ornery, 
drunken  niggab  byab.  I's  gwine  tub 
1'ahn  bim  not  tub  be  zumptious  wid  me 
no  mo'!  Git  tub  wuck  pumpin'."  Tbe 
grasp  of  ber  bands  tightened. 

"Pump,  Brotbab,  pump,"  gurgled 
Mr.  Finney. 

And  Brother  Brice  pumped. 


130 


ANANIAS,  OF   POKETOWN 

"AND  so,"  concluded  Miss  Hattie  sol 
emnly,  "the  Lord  struck  Ananias  dead 
for  telling  a  lie." 

"Whut  de  Lawd  done  strike  wid?"  in 
quired  a  voice  from  the  extreme  end  of 
the  row  of  pickaninnies  seated  deco 
rously  before  her,  whose  countenances 
varied  in  color  from  a  pale  tan  to  the 
ehony  hue  of  the  genuine  negro. 

Miss  Hattie  hastily  searched  her  mem 
ory  for  a  more  explicit  description  of 
the  exit  of  Ananias,  and  found  herself 
obliged  to  improvise  somewhat  in  order 
to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion. 

"A  thunderbolt  came  down  from 
heaven,  Abraham  Augustus,"  she  re 
plied,  much  encouraged  by  a  gleam  of 
131 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

interest  on  the  part  of  a  member  of  her 
flock,  "and  it  killed  Ananias  and  Sap- 
phira  too,  just  as  I  told  you." 

"Laws!"  chorussed  the  class  in 
unison. 

"And  what  the  Lord  has  done  once, 
He  can  do  again,"  continued  Miss  Hat- 
tie,  following  up  the  impression  she  had 
made;  "and  so,  children,  you  must  be 
very  careful  to  always  speak  the  truth. 
Eemember  what  happens  to  liars.  Now, 
you  won't  forget,  will  you?" 

Abraham  Augustus  had  been  ponder 
ing  deeply. 

"Whut  kin'  ob  a  bolt  am  a  thundah- 
bolt!"  he  demanded  abruptly. 

"A  thunderbolt,"  said  Miss  Hattie, 
floundering  in  rather  deep  waters,— 
"well,  a  thunderbolt  is  a  thunderbolt, 
you  know.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  sent 
from  heaven  to  kill  people  that  don't  tell 
the  truth.  Now,  do  you  understand  ? ' ' 
132 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

"Yaas'm,"  responded  the  class  duti 
fully,  as  they  would  have  acquiesced  in 
any  statement. 

"What  is  the  Golden  Text?"  inquired 
Miss  Hattie,  changing  the  subject  with 
skill. 

Dead  silence  prevailed,  while  one  or 
two  members  yawned  exhaustively. 

"Surely  some  of  you  must  know  it," 
exclaimed  the  discouraged  instructress; 
"I  went  over  it  with  you  so  carefully 
not  half  an  hour  ago!  Amanda  Ara- 
minta  Carter,  see  how  much  of  it  you 
can  say." 

Amanda  Araminta  rose  and  stalked  to 
the  front,  swinging  her  limp  calico  skirts 
coquettishly  and  twining  her  attenuated 
legs  about  each  other  with  embarrass 
ment. 

"Yaas'm,  Miss  Hattie,  I  knows  it," 
she  said  with  conscious  pride. 

"I  thought  you  wouldn't  forget,"  said 
133 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Miss  Hattie  approvingly.  "Now,  what 
is  it?" 

Amanda  Araminta  hung  her  head 
shyly  on  one  side  and  placed  her  finger 
in  the  corner  of  her  mouth. 

"Blessed  am  de  meesh,  fuh  dey  shell 
hyah  it,"  she  murmured,  presumably 
alluding  to  the  inheritance  of  the  meek. 

"We  will  sing  i Onward,  Christian  Sol 
diers/  :  announced  Miss  Hattie  hur 
riedly. 

The  Sunday-school  dispersed  and 
wended  its  several  ways  homeward  in 
groups  of  two  and  three,  gossiping  and 
quarrelling  after  the  manner  of  such 
gatherings  the  world  over. 

The  routes  of  Amanda  Araminta  Car 
ter  and  Abraham  Augustus  Bristow  lay 
parallel,  their  homes  being  situated  side 
by  side  in  that  settlement  of  African 
habitation  known  as  Poketown,  so  they 
pursued  their  way  on  opposite  sides  of 
134 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

the  road.  Abraham  Augustus  threw  bits 
of  stick  and  handfuls  of  loose  dirt  at  his 
vis-a-vis  at  short  intervals;  this  was  a 
delicate  little  attention  on  his  part,  de 
signed  to  convey  to  her  his  interest.  He 
cherished  a  deep  though  unexpressed  ad 
miration  for  Amanda  Araminta,  but  not 
for  worlds  would  he  have  walked  along 
the  public  highway  beside  her.  Nor  was 
it  etiquette  for  her  to  seem  to  be  aware 
of  his  proximity  when  anyone  else  was 
within  sight,  so  she  marched  on  unmoved 
by  even  the  most  determined  fusillade 
of  earth  and  pebbles.  Perhaps  this  was 
one  way  of  showing  his  affection. 

Reaching  their  respective  homes 
simultaneously,  the  children  paused  be 
fore  entering.  On  the  doorstep  of  Abra 
ham  Augustus  sat  a  small  basket  partly 
full  of  apples,  while  in  and  about  the 
house  silence  reigned  supreme. 

"  Mighty  airly  fuh  aipples,"  remarked 
135 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Amanda  Araminta  casually,  happening 
accidentally  to  perceive  her  neighbor. 

1  'Oh,  I  dunno,"  he  responded  loftily; 
"I's  done  et  many  a7  aipple  befo'  dis 
time  o'  yeah." 

' '  Specs  dey  tas  'e  bettah  en  dey  looks, ' ' 
continued  the  lady  suggestively. 

"Yo'  ain'  gwine  tuh  tas'e  'em  nohow, 
ya-a-a-h!"  politely  replied  the  gentle 
man. 

Amanda  Araminta  settled  herself  on 
the  doorstep,  and  a  peculiar  expression 
crossed  her  shrewd  little  face. 

"Bet  yo'  dat  yo'  kain'  eat  mo'  'en  two 
of  dem  aipples  tuh  wunct,"  she  volun 
teered  presently. 

"Laws!"  he  returned  derisively,  "I 
kin  eat  de  hull  baskit  ef  I  wants  tuh — 
eat  'em  right  now. ' ' 

"  Yo'  ack  like  yo'  skeert  tuh  tech  'em," 
she  said  indifferently. 

* '  Who  skeert  ?  Me  f "  he  scoffed  boast- 
136 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

fully.     "I   ain'   feahed   ob   nobody   er 
nothin',  I  ain'." 

The  apples  were  small  and  knotty,  of 
an  emerald  hue,  and  had  been  collected 
from  beneath  the  trees  of  an  adjacent 
orchard  by  Mrs.  Bristow  with  reference 
to  a  pie.  Amanda  Araminta  fingered 
them  one  by  one,  and  selecting  the 
largest  and  ripest,  held  it  out  tempt 
ingly. 

"Dis  yere  aipple  gittin'  mighty  mel- 
lah,"  said  Eve  No.  2. 

The  man  who  hesitates  is  lost.  Abra 
ham  Augustus  put  out  his  hand  for  the 
fruit,  withdrew  it  hastily,  and  extended 
it  again. 

"Does  yo'  want  a  bite?"  he  inquired 
patronizingly,  when  half-way  through. 

"Oh,  I  ain'  puhtickellah, "  she  replied, 
hoping  to  be  urged.  She  was  not  again 
invited  to  partake,  and  the  neglect 
rankled. 

137 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"I's  gwine  tub  eat  'em  all,"  he  an 
nounced,  and  proceeded  to  do  so. 

"Pig!"  ejaculated  Amanda  Araminta 
as  the  last  green  knot  disappeared  and 
the  door  of  the  Bristow  domicile  opened 
from  within. 

"Whuh  dem  aipples?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Bristow,  picking  up  the  empty  basket. 

"Whut  aipples?"  asked  her  son,  tem 
porizing  weakly. 

"Whut  yo'  done  wid  dem  aipples,  yo' 
triflin'  niggah?"  pursued  Mrs.  Bristow 
relentlessly. 

Again  did  Abraham  Augustus  hesi 
tate. 

"I  ain'  saw  no  aipples,  mammy,"  he 
said  piously;  "we  jes'  done  got  home 
f'om  Sunday-school,  an'  de  baskit  wuh 
a-settin'  on  de  do 'step  same  ez  it  am 
now.  Ain'  dat  so,  Mandy?" 

It  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  Abra 
ham  Augustus  to  be  thus  obliged  to 
138 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

tacitly  ask  the  assistance  of  Amanda 
Araminta  to  extricate  him  from  his  pres 
ent  predicament,  and  she  knew  it. 

"Yaas'm,  Mis'  Bristow,"  she  said 
officiously,  "we  jes'  done  got  back  Pom 
Sunday-school. ' ' 

"Whuh  dem  aipples?"  repeated  Mrs. 
Bristow,  fixing  an  eagle  eye  upon  her 
offspring. 

"Cross  meh  haht  I  nevah  teched  'em," 
said  Abraham  Augustus,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word;  "de  basket  wuh 
a-settin'  jes'  dat  a-way  when  we  got 
hyah.  I  nevah  teched  it  nohow.  Hope 
tuhdie." 

"Pow'ful  quare,"  said  his  mother, 
still  unconvinced;  but  her  son  had  van 
ished  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  so 
she  took  the  empty  basket  and  returned 
to  the  kitchen,  where  she  busied  herself 
getting  bottles  of  various  sizes  down 
from  the  shelf. 

139 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"When  dem  aipples  gits  tub  wuck  on 
his  innahds  I  reckon  dis  yere'll  be 
mighty  handy/'  she  remarked  as  she 
shook  the  one  labelled  paregoric  vigor 
ously  and  replaced  it  within  easy  reach. 

Meanwhile  Abraham  Augustus  had 
started  down  the  Dutch  Neck  Eoad  for 
the  creek,  which  had  occurred  to  him  as 
a  harbor  of  refuge,  being  somewhat  in 
accessible  except  by  the  short  cut  across 
the  marsh  which  he  proposed  taking.  As 
he  crept  past  the  rear  of  the  house  he 
became  aware  of  a  head  raised  over  the 
back  fence. 

"Tole  a  lie,"  taunted  Amanda  Ara- 
minta  derisively,  "tole  a  lie!  Anny 
Nias !  Gwine  tub  be  struck  daid !  Anny 
Nias!" 

Abraham  Augustus  sped  on,  but  the 

words  rang  unpleasantly  in  his  ears.    He 

wished  that  he  might  live  the  last  hour 

over  again;    the  result  should  be  very 

140 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

different.  He  paused  uncertainly  in  the 
midst  of  the  marsh  and  sat  down  upon  a 
tussock  of  dry  grass. 

The  afternoon  waned,  and  still  he  sat 
and  pondered;  for  some  reason  he  felt 
strangely  depressed  and  averse  to  mo 
tion.  Dark  clouds  gathered  overhead 
unnoticed  by  Abraham  Augustus,  who 
was  now  much  disturbed  inwardly,  phys 
ically  as  well  as  mentally. 

"De  Lawd  done  keep  thundahbolts  in 
his  wescut  pocket  tuh  kill  folks  whut 
tells  lies,"  he  reflected  uneasily. 

A  sullen  rumble  of  thunder  caused  the 
unhappy  boy  to  look  apprehensively 
about  him. 

"Hit  wuh  a  thundahbolt  whut  lay 
Anny  Nias  low, ' '  he  muttered  miserably. 
* '  Miss  Hattie  done  say  dat  whut  happen 
tuhliahs." 

Overhead  the  clouds  gathered  black 
and  lowering,  parted  now  and  then  by 
141 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  and  the  thun 
der  grew  louder  and  more  frequent. 
Alone  in  the  marsh  with  his  accusing 
conscience  and  that  other  disturbed  por 
tion  of  his  anatomy,  Abraham  Augustus 
cowered  abjectly  on  his  tussock  and 
awaited  his  doom.  Suddenly  he  fell 
upon  his  knees  and  raised  his  hands  in 
supplication. 

"Mistah  Gawd,"  he  faltered,  "Fs 
a-waitin'  fuh'  yo'.  Fs  hyah  in  de  ma'sh 
spectin'  yo'.  Yo'  ain'  gwine  tuh  s 'prise 
me  like  yo'  done  Miss  Anny  Nias.  Fs 
skeert  ob  yo',  Mistah  Gawd,  but  Fs 
spectin'  yo'. 

"Fs  mighty  li'l  an'  nigh  de  groun', 
Mistah  Gawd,  an'  yo's  pow'ful  big  an' 
hus'lin'  up  dah  in  de  sky" — he  paused 
for  an  instant,  as  though  anticipating  an 
answer,  and  then  resumed  deprecatingly 
— "slingin'  yo'  thundahbolts.  Yo'  done 
hit  Miss  Anny  Nias  de  fus'  time  tryin', 
142 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 
an'  'tain'  no  ways  likely  yo's  gwine  tub 


miss  me  now." 


Abraham  Augustus  paused  and  swal 
lowed  convulsively  several  times ;  there 
seemed  to  be  a  lump  across  his  throat 
growing  rapidly  larger,  which  at  times 
impeded  his  utterance. 

"I  knows  I's  bad,"  he  continued, 
swaying  his  body  back  and  forth  in  an 
agony  of  fear  and  remorse,  much  in 
creased  by  his  physical  discomfort;  "I 
done  pull  de  tail  outen  de  speckled  pullet 
an'  shave  de  whiskahs  off  en  de  cat  yis- 
tiddy  mo'nin',  but,  0  Lawd,  don'  lay  dat 
up  ag'in'  me!  Whut  good  wuh  dey  tub 
me  aftah  I  got  'em?  'Membah  wash 
days  ;  who  gwine  tub  tote  de  watah  f uh 
mammy  'cep'n'  me?  'Membah  dat,  O 
good  Lawd,  an'  fling  yo'  bolt  sideways! 
Shet  yo'  eyes  an'  aim  keerless,  jes'  dis 
wunst;  drap  it  down  an'  go  on  'bout  yo' 
wuck.  Yo'  ain'  got  no  call  tub  wotch 
143 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

whuh  it  fall — all  yo's  got  tub  do  is  jes' 
tub  drap  it  down. ' ' 

A  flash  of  lightning  illumined  the  sky 
for  an  instant  as  the  trembling  voice 
resumed : 

"But  ef  yo's  gwine  tub  sling  de  bolt 
straight,  Mistah  Gawd,  mebbe  yo'  kin 
lemme  intuh  de  back  gate  ob  hebbin.  I 
knows  I  b 'longs  tub  Mistah  Satan  right 
ful,  but  I  don*  reckon  he  gwine  tub  miss 
me  'mong  all  de  res '  ob  de  liahs  in  Poke- 
town.  Don'  let  him  know  I's  a-comin' 
yo'  way;  jes'  open  de  do'  quiet-like  and 
lemme  in.  I  kin'  git  thu  a  mighty  li'l 
crack  an '  I  won '  be  no  trubble.  I  '11  black 
yo'  boots  an'  wash  off  de  do 'steps  reg- 
lah;  an'  I'll  split  de  kin'lin'  too — hones' 
I  will.  Don'  let  ole  Mistah  Satan  git 
behin'  me  wid  he  pitchfo'k!" 

The  first  drops  of  rain  fell  heavily, 
and  the  thunder  rolled  ominously. 

"Abraham  Augustus!"  called  a  voice 
144 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

far  in  the  distance,  but  clear  and  distinct 
notwithstanding, ' '  Abraham  Augustus ! ' ' 

"Yaas,  suh,  Lawd,  I  hyahs  yo',"  re 
plied  Abraham  Augustus,  with  chatter 
ing  teeth. 

A  sudden  sharp  twinge  of  pain  caused 
the  boy  to  bend  double  with  anguish, 
while  at  the  same  moment  the  lightning 
flashed  vividly  and  the  thunder  crashed 
tumultuously  overhead. 

"De  thundahbolt ! "  gasped  Abraham 
Augustus,  falling  heavily  to  one  side; 
"I  done  feel  it  entah  intuh  me." 

Amanda  Araminta  watched  the  re 
treating  figure  of  her  comrade  as  she 
balanced  uncertainly  on  the  top  rail  of 
the  fence.  For  some  time  she  remained 
lost  in  thought,  then,  dropping  quickly 
to  the  ground,  she  ran  off  towards  the 
marsh.  Undeterred  by  the  approaching 
storm,  she  jumped  from  tussock  to  tus- 
10  145 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

sock,  peering  anxiously  about  and  occa 
sionally  calling  his  name  in  piercing 
accents.  When  the  rain  began  to  fall 
she  turned  homeward. 

"Ain'  gwine  tuh  git  meh  bes'  clones 
wet,  nohow, "  she  murmured. 

But  the  storm  now  broke  upon  her 
with  its  full  force,  and  she  speedily 
became  thoroughly  drenched  and  fright 
ened. 

"Abra'm  'Gustus!"  she  wailed, 
"Abra'm  'Gustus!  Whuh  is  yo', 
Abra'm  'Gustus !" 

Again  the  lightning  flashed  and  the 
thunder  crashed  loudly.  Eunning  blindly 
about  the  marsh,  alarmed  and  bewil 
dered,  Amanda  Araminta  stumbled  over 
a  dark  object.  It  proved  to  be  Abraham 
Augustus,  and  she  touched  him  with 
trembling  finger. 

"Is  yo'  daid  yit?"  she  whispered. 

" Mighty  nigh  gone,"  he  responded 
146 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

feebly,  displaying  no  surprise  at  her 
presence. 

The  violence  of  the  storm  had  appar 
ently  spent  itself  in  the  last  outburst, 
for  only  a  low  muttering  sounded  over 
head  and  the  rain  fell  less  heavily. 

"Does  yo'  feel  bad?"  inquired 
Amanda  Araminta,  thirsting  for  details. 
"Huccum  yo'  ain'  daid  yit,  ef  yo'  done 
been  laid  low?" 

"De  thundahbolt, "  he  explained 
weakly,  yet  not  without  a  certain  pride 
in  the  situation,  "hit  entah  intuh  me 
same  ez  Anny  Nias  an'  I's  mos'  gone." 

"Whuh  it  entah?"  she  queried  with 
awe. 

Abraham  Augustus  indicated  the  seat 
of  his  pain,  which  perhaps  differed 
slightly  in  location  from  the  wound  of 
the  original  Ananias. 

Amanda  Araminta  felt  it  incumbent 
to  do  something,  but  was  in  doubt  as  to 
147 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

a  proper  course  of  action.  Suddenly 
she  remembered  her  mother's  graphic 
description  of  an  illness  at  which  she 
had  recently  presided.  The  victim  again 
groaned  loudly. 

"Die  a-shoutiny  she  cried,  spring 
ing  to  her  feet  and  clapping  her  hands 
energetically,  "die  a-shoutin'.  Dat's  de 
way  tuh  git  redimption.  Glory !  Glory  1 
Hallelujah !" 

"Hallelujah!"  echoed  Abraham  Au 
gustus  rather  faintly. 

"Glory!  Glory!  Hallelo-o-o-jah! 
Keep  a-shoutiny '  called  Amanda  Ara- 
minta,  clapping  faster,  quite  carried 
away  with  enthusiasm,  but  her  compan 
ion  lay  limp  upon  the  wet  grass,  so  after 
a  while  she  desisted  and  sank  down 
beside  him  in  a  prayerful  attitude,  which 
she  considered  but  proper  under  the  cir 
cumstances. 

The  rain  had  quite  ceased,  but  both. 
148 


ANANIAS,    OF    POKETOWN 

children  were  thoroughly  soaked,  and 
the  discomfort  of  her  condition  began 
to  have  its  effect  upon  the  temper  of 
Amanda  Araminta.  Eising  and  wring 
ing  out  her  wet  skirts,  she  looked  long 
ingly  towards  home;  then  she  stirred 
the  recumbent  figure  slightly  with  her 
foot. 

"Is  yo'  daid  yit?"  she  inquired  at  last. 

Abraham  Augustus  opened  his  eyes 
and  shook  his  head  languidly. 

"Hit  suttinly  do  take  yo'  a  pow'ful 
long  time  tuh  give  up  de  ghos ', ' '  she  re 
marked  heartlessly. 

The  lips  of  the  sufferer  grew  yet  more 
ashen. 

"Dem  aipples  didn'  tas'e  good  no 
how,  "  he  said  irrelevantly. 

Amanda  Araminta  seized  his  arm  and 
dragged  him  to  his  feet. 

"We's  gwine  home,"  she  announced. 
"Ef  yo's  got  a  thundahbolt  in  yo'  in- 
149 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

nahds,  layin'  out  hyah  ain'  gwine  tub 
git  it  outen  yo '. " 

"I  kain'  walk  nohow,"  he  objected. 
"  Folks  whut  goes  tuh  glory  goes  on  dey 
backs,  not  on  dey  f eets. ' ' 

"Ef  de  daith  angel  am  a-huwerin' 
ovah  yo  V '  said  Amanda  Araminta,  tow 
ing  him  rapidly  along,  "he  mought  ez 
well  huwah  in  de  house  ez  outside.  Yo ' 
ought  tuh  been  daid  by  dis  time  any 
how;  yo'  didn'  ketch  Army  Nias  hangin' 
on  dis  a-way ! ' ' 

"Kain?  die  no  fastah,"  apologized 
Abraham  Augustus,  stumbling  along  in 
her  wake;  "I's  gwine  soon,  sho's  yo' 
bawn.  OLawd!" 

Mrs.  Bristow,  comfortably  swaying 
back  and  forth  in  her  rocking-chair,  was 
astonished  by  the  entrance  of  two  small, 
bedraggled  figures. 

"Sakes  alive!"  she  ejaculated  as  her 

150 


ANANIAS,    OF    POKETOWN 

son  threw  himself  on  the  floor  at  her 
feet,  "whut  de  mattah  wid  yo"?" 

Abraham  Augustus  groaned  and  rolled 
his  eyes  until  only  the  whites  were  vis 
ible. 

"He's  a-passin',"  said  Amanda  Ara- 
minta  excitedly,  "he's  a-passin'  dis  time 
fuhsho'.  Glory!  Glory!  Hallelujah!" 

"Abra'm  'Gustus  Bristow,  whut  de 
mattah  wid  yo '  1 "  demanded  his  mother, 
punctuating  her  remarks  by  vigorous 
shakes. 

"He  done  tole  a  lie,"  explained 
Amanda  Araminta,  "an*  de  Lawd  struck 
him  daid,  same  ez  Anny  Nias.  Wid  a 
thundahbolt,  Mis'  Bristow.  Hit  done 
come  Pom  de  sky  intuh  him,  like  Miss 
Hattie  say,  Mis'  Bristow;  it  lay  him 
low,  same  ez  Anny  Nias." 

"G'long  outen  hyah,  Mandy  Cartah, 
wid  yo'  Anny  Niases,"  said  Mrs.  Bris 
tow  as  she  turned  to  the  mantelshelf  and 
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POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

took  therefrom  a  bottle.  "I  dunno  who 
she  am,  but  she  wa'n't  no  fit  company 
fuh  nobody — I  knows  dat  much." 

"Don*  yo'  reckon  he  gwine  tuh  die?" 
inquired  Amanda  Araminta,  watching 
Mrs.  Bristow  pour  a  liberal  portion  of 
the  contents  of  the  bottle  into  a  glass. 

"Laws!"  returned  Mrs.  Bristow  in 
differently,  "sech  ez  him  ain'  gethered 
home  airly;  he's  hyah  tuh  stay,  an'  well 
I  knows  it.  Open  yo'  mouf." 

The  last  remark  was  addressed  to  her 
son,  who  turned  away  his  head  as  she 
approached. 

"  'Tain'  no  good  tuh  git  de  pare 
goric,  mammy, ' '  he  said  feebly ;  ' l  I  done 
hyah  de  v'ice  ob  de  Lawd  callin'  tuh  me 
outen  de  clouds  down  in  de  ma'sh,  an' 
I  done  feel  de  thundahbolt  hit  me.  I 
done  hyah  de  Lawd  callin'  tuh  me  good 
an' loud." 

Amanda  Araminta  giggled  nervously ; 

152 


OPKN    YO'    MOUF  !" 


ANANIAS,    OF     POKETOWN 

she  had  begun  to  doubt  the  fact  of  the 
entrance  of  the  thunderbolt. 

"Beckon  yo'  hyah  me/'  she  said;  "I 
done  call  yo'  down  on  de  ma'sh  'caze  I's 
skeert  o'  de  sto'm." 

1 1  Open  yo '  mouf , ' '  repeated  Mrs.  Bris- 
tow,  forcing  the  dose  upon  him  and  com 
pelling  obedience  by  firmly  holding  his 
nose;  "next  time  yo'  makes  yo'se'f  sick 
wid  green  aipples,  don'  go  blamin'  de 
Lawd  fuh  de  feelin's  in  yo'  insides;  dey 
don'  huht  yo'  no  mo'  'en  dey  ought  tuh 
huht  yo'  nohow.  Serves  yo'  jes'  right, 
an'  I's  glad  of  it.  Open  yo'  mouf  an' 
swallah  dis  stuff;  does  yo'  hyah  me 
talkin'?  Swallah  it  befo'  I  makes  yo' 
wish  de  thundahbolt  had  struck  yo'  fo' 
sho'." 

And  Abraham  Augustus  swallowed. 


153 


VI 

THE  FEAST  OF  LOCUSTS 

"  Yo'  ain'  gwine  tuh  git  thu'  de  Golden 
Gate  nohow,  Ann'  Hestah,  ef  yo'  am' 
baptized,"  said  Brother  Brice  solemnly. 

"Laws,"  returned  Annt  Hester  John 
son  impatiently,  "ain'  I  jes'  tole  yo'  dat 
I's  done  been  sprinkled  by  de  Methodys, 
an'  de  'Piscopals,  an'  de  Chillnn  o'  Zion; 
an'  I  come  mighty  nigh  j'inin'  de  sex  o' 
Lambs  o'  Jerooselnm  las'  wintah.  I 
ain'  noways  sho',"  she  continued  re 
flectively,  "dat  I  ain'  gwine  tnh  come 
intnh  de  fole  o'  dem  Lambs  yit." 

"De  road  of  de  Baptis'  am  de  sho'  an' 
safe  way  fuh  yo'  tuh  trabbel,  Ann'  Hes 
tah,"  replied  Brother  Brice  impres 
sively.  "I's  'stonished  dat  a  lady  o'  yo' 
refinery  kin  even  study  'bout  'sociatin' 
wid  de  Lambs  o'  Jerooselum." 
154 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

Aunt  Hester 's  two  hundred  pounds  of 
avoirdupois  would  have  rendered  her 
rather  a  cumbersome  lamb,  but  the  gen 
tleman  considerately  refrained  from 
mentioning  this  fact. 

"Much  yo'  knows  'bout  safe  roads  tuh 
trabbel,"  continued  Aunt  Hester  ag 
gressively;  "I  knows  yo',  Kinnard 
Brice,  an'  I  knows  dat  yo'  kain'  follah 
no  straight  road  nohow  ef  de  chickins 
happens  tuh  roos '  r oun '  de  co  'nah.  Don ' 
yo'  come  hyah  speechifyin'  tuh  me.  I 
tells  yo'  I's  got  ez  good  a  show  at  glory 
ez  yo'  has.  I's  done  been  sprinkled  by 
de  Chillun  o'  Zion  an'  de " 

"Aun'  Hestah,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Brice,  rising  and  extending  one  hand 
majestically,  as  though  in  the  pulpit, 
"ef  yo'  thinks  dem  few  draps  o'  watah 
am  gwine  tuh  float  yo'  intuh  glory,  I's 
sorry  fo'  yo',  Aun'  Hestah,  'caze  it  am' 
gwine  tuh  do  it  nohow." 
155 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Whut  I  got  tuh  do  tuh  git  dan?"  in 
quired  Aunt  Hester,  somewhat  subdued 
in  spite  of  herself. 

"Yo's  got  tuh  put  on  yo'  w'ite  robes 
an'  come  down  tuh  de  watah,  Aun'  Hes- 
tah,  dat's  whut  yo's  got  tuh  do,  same  ez 
othah  sinnahs  does/' 

"An*  aftah  I  gits  tuh  de  watah,  whut 
den?" 

"Den,"  said  Brother  Brice,  with  all 
due  solemnity,  "I  takes  holt  o'  yo',  an' 
I  dips  yo'  up  an'  down  in  de  watah  twell 
yo'  sins  am  washed  away." 

"How  'bout  meh  haid?"  said  Aunt 
Hester  nervously;  "  'tain'  noways  right 
tuh  drownd  de  haid  'caze  o'  de  sins  o' 
de  body." 

"Yo'  goes  clean  undah,  Aun*  Hes- 
tah,"  responded  Mr.  Brice  unctuously; 
"three  times  yo'  goes  undah,  haid  an' 
all." 

"Hit  am  puffec'ly  scan'lous,"  ejacu- 
156 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

lated  Aunt  Hester,  holding  on  to  her 
head,  as  though  to  preserve  it  from  in 
jury.  "Whuh  yo'  git  sech  notions  from, 
anyhow  ?" 

"Bead  de  Book,  Aun'  Hestah,  read  de 
Book.  'Membah  John  de  Baptis  V 

"Heap  o'  diffunce  'twix'  yo'  an7  John 
de  Baptis  V'  remarked  Aunt  Hester  un 
kindly. 

"  'Membah  de  watahs  o'  Johdan," 
pursued  Brother  Brice  rhetorically. 

"Heap  o'  diffunce  'twix'  de  watahs  o' 
Johdan  an'  de  watahs  o'  de  Appoquini- 
mink  Crick/'  said  Aunt  Hester  sotto 
voce. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Brice,  turning 
towards  the  door,  "I  leaves  yo'  tuh  yo' 
'fleckshuns,  Aun'  Hestah.  I  done  come 
hyah  'caze  de  Session  tuck  an'  p'inted 
yo'  out  tuh  me  ez  a  fullish  virgin  an'  a 
riotous  livah.  Yo's  pow'ful  shoht  breff, 
I  sees;  reckon  yo'  days  am  glidin' 
157 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

swif 'ly  by.  Make  yo'  peace,  Aun'  Hes- 
tah,  make  yo '  peace.  Git  yo '  sins  washed 
away  an'  be  ready  tub  ansuh  up  wben 
yo'  name  am  called." 

So  saying  Brotber  Brice  departed, 
leaving  Aunt  Hester  a  victim  to  con 
flicting  emotions,  tbe  scorn  with  which 
she  had  received  the  first  remarks  of  her 
visitor  having  been  gradually  replaced 
by  a  vague  feeling  of  apprehension  as 
the  pastoral  call  progressed.  She  did 
not  like  his  reference  to  her  custom  of 
puffing  heavily  after  even  a  trifling  exer 
tion,  a  tendency  due  entirely  to  embon 
point,  but  a  source  of  much  discomfort 
and  mental  disquietude  notwithstanding. 
Aunt  Hester  laid  her  hand  on  that  por 
tion  of  her  well-padded  anatomy  under 
which  her  heart  was  supposed  to  lie  and 
sighed  profoundly. 

"We's  hyah  tub-day  an'  gone  tuh- 
morrah,"  she  remarked  irrelevantly  to 
158 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

the  empty  room  as  she  sank  into  a  rock 
ing-chair  and  swayed  luxuriously  to  and 
fro. 

Outside  the  August  sun  shone  brightly 
and  a  little  brown  wren  sang  cheerfully 
as  he  balanced  on  the  slender  twig  of  a 
lilac-bush  which  grew  very  close  to  the 
house.  A  sudden  breeze,  however, 
twisted  the  twig  so  alarmingly  that  the 
bird  ceased  singing  and  flew  straight 
before  him  through  the  open  window 
into  the  kitchen;  bewildered  by  his 
strange  surroundings,  he  fluttered  aim 
lessly  about  for  a  moment  and  finally 
lighted  upon  the  ample  figure  in  the 
rocking-chair,  his  small  breast  palpi 
tating  with  fright. 

An  ashen  hue  slowly  spread  over  Aunt 
Hester's  chocolate-colored  countenance. 
She  threw  back  her  head,  gasping,  and 
her  bosom  heaved  as  convulsively  as 
that  of  the  bird  upon  her  lap.  Twice 
159 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

she  essayed  to  speak,  but  her  trembling 
lips  refused  to  articulate. 

"De  Sign,"  she  gasped  at  last,  "de 
Signo'Daith." 

The  wren,  seeing  his  opportunity,  flew 
out  of  the  window  again  and  resumed 
his  song,  but  there  was  no  escape  for 
Aunt  Hester  from  the  pall  of  terror 
which  had  descended  upon  her  and  en 
veloped  her  in  its  gloomy  folds.  A  bird 
had  flown  through  the  window  and 
lighted  upon  her;  therefore  must  she 
die  within  a  year.  She  looked  around 
her  comfortable  kitchen  and  sighed  pro 
foundly;  truly  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt 
appeal  more  strongly  to  some  of  us  than 
to  others. 

Meanwhile,  the  Eeverend  Kinnard 
Brice  sat  upon  his  doorstep  and  pon 
dered  deeply ;  he  was  somewhat  discour 
aged  with  the  result  of  his  visit.  Aunt 
Hester  was  an  important  personage, 
160 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

known  to  have  two  hundred  dollars  in 
bank,  and  without  encumbrances  in  the 
way  of  family.  The  coffers  of  the  Bap 
tist  church  sadly  needed  replenishing, 
and  Brother  Brice  felt  decidedly  cha 
grined  at  his  failure  to  entice  a  sheep 
so  well  worth  shearing  into  his  fold. 

"De  hahts  o'  some,"  he  reflected 
mournfully,  "am  sho'  'miff  made  o' 
stone." 

Something  loomed  up  before  him, 
which  at  first  appeared  to  be  a  dark 
mountain  of  flesh,  but  finally  resolved 
itself  into  the  figure  of  Aunt  Hester 
Johnson. 

"Brothah  Brice,"  said  that  lady 
firmly,  "I's  come  tuh  tell  yo'  dat  I 
don'  reckon  dem  sprinkles  gwine  tuh 
do  fuh  me  when  it  comes  tuh  de  p'int. 
I  done  been  studyin'  yo'  wo'ds,  Brothah. 
Yo's  a  pow'ful  fine  zortah,  dat's  whut 
yo'  is." 

11  161 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

"De  Lawd  done  put  de  wo  Ms  intuh 
meh  mouf,"  replied  Mr.  Brice  modestly. 

"An'Ps  come  tuh  ax  yo',"  sne  con- 
tinued,  faltering  a  little,  "when  yo* 
spec's  tuh  'merse  de  nex'  batch  o'  sin- 
nahs  in  de  watahs  o'  de  crick. " 

Mr.  Brice  concealed  any  natural  exul 
tation  he  may  have  felt,  as  he  responded 
impressively, — 

"Two  weeks  f'om  yistidday,  Aun' 
Hestah,  de  'mershun  do  come  off.  Is 
yo'  gwine  tuh  be  dah,  Sistah  Johnsing!" 

Mrs.  Johnson  replied  that  she  intended 
being  present,  and  having  thus  made  her 
first  preparation  to  meet  her  fate,  walked 
laboriously  homeward,  reflecting  on  the 
uncertainty  of  human  life. 

The  baptism  was  scheduled  for  Sun 
day  immediately  following  morning  ser 
vice.  The  preceding  Saturday  Aunt 
Hester,  wandering  dejectedly  upon  the 
banks  of  the  creek,  chanced  to  encounter 
162 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

Mr.  Brice  issuing  from  the  little  patch 
of  adjoining  woodland. 

"Whuh  yo'  gwine,  Ann'  Hestah?" 
he  inquired,  skilfully  concealing  a  fish 
ing-line  in  his  pocket;  "yo'  had  ought 
tuh  be  home  on  yo'  knees,  'stid  o'  traips- 
in'  roun'  on  yo'  feets.  'Membah  de  pack 
o '  sins  yo  's  got  tuh  shed  on  Sunday. ' ' 

"Beckon  I  kin  manage  meh  knees  an' 
meh  feets  mos'  ez  well  ez  yo'  kin,"  re 
turned  Aunt  Hester  somewhat  tartly. 
The  swiftly  flowing  current  of  the  Appo- 
quinimink  apparently  did  not  appeal 
pleasantly  to  her  imagination. 

"Whut  yo'  doin'  hyah  yo'se'fT'  she 
continued,  fixing  her  eye  upon  the  bulg 
ing  pocket  of  her  pastor,  whence  a  fish 
hook  hung  pendent  to  a  bit  of  string. 
"Huccum  yo'  ain'  home  on  yo'  own 
knees,  tell  me  dat?" 

"Aun'  Hestah,"  he  replied  solemnly, 
"I's  gwine  tuh  tell  yo'  whut  I's  doin' 
163 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

hyah;  I's  done  gone  out  intuh  de  wildah- 
ness,  same  ez  John  de  Baptis'.  Y-a-a-s, 
Ann'  Hestah;  I  girds  up  meh  loins  an* 
fasts  an'  prays  in  de  wildahness  tub  take 
an'  git  ready  fuh  de  'mershun  on  Sun 
day." 

"Am  dat  a  wildahness?"  demanded 
Aunt  Hester,  indicating  the  shallow  strip 
of  woodland  beside  them. 

"I  fasts  an'  prays,"  continued  Mr. 
Brice,  disregarding  the  question — 
"y-a-a-s,  Aun'  Hestah,  dat's  whut  I  does. 
All  dis  hyah  week  I  takes  an'  lives  on 
locusses  an'  wile  honey;  dat's  all  I  gits 
tuh  eat  de  long  week  thu." 

"Whut  does  yo'  do  wid  dat  feesh-hook 
an'  line?"  inquired  Aunt  Hester,  point 
ing  at  the  guilty  pocket.  Brother  Brice, 
however,  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"Dat's  whut  I  ketches  de  locusses 
wid,"  he  responded  firmly,  looking  his 
questioner  squarely  in  the  face.  "I's 
164 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

gwine  tub  be  a  saint  some  day,  Aun' 
Hestah,  ef  I  eats  'miff  of  'em." 

"Brothah  Brice,"  said  Aunt  Hester 
suddenly,  "I's  pow'ful  slack  'bout  dis 
hyah  'mershun.  Ef  yo'  don'  stay  by 
me  all  de  time,  I  ain'  so  sho'  I's  gwine 
tub  be  dah  Sunday." 

"Keep  a-prayin',  Aun'  Hestab,  keep 
a-prayin',"  said  Brotber  Brice  encour 
agingly. 

"Come  borne  wid  me,  Brotbab,"  sbe 
resumed  pathetically ;  "come  suppobt 
me  tbu  dis  byab  tryin'  time.  Yo'  kin 
eat  yo'  locusses  tub  my  bouse  ez  well 
ez  in  de  wildabness ;  I  kin  git  yo'  plenty 
of  'em." 

"I  couldn'  do  bit  noways,  Aun'  Hes 
tab.  ' '  Brotber  Brice  fingered  tbe  pocket 
holding  tbe  fishing-line. 

"Well,"  said  Aunt  Hester,  resolutely 
turning  aside,  "I  reckon  I  mougbt  ez 
well  tubn  dat  w'ite  robe  intub  sheets; 
165 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

I  am'  gwine  tuh  need  it  nohow  tub  go 
intuh  de  watah." 

" Won't  nothin'  else  do  yo',  Ann' 
Hestah?" 

"Ef  yo'  wants  me,"  said  Aunt  Hester 
loftily,  "yo's  got  tuh  wuck  fuh  me.  I 
ain'  no  cheap  niggah." 

Casting  a  regretful  glance  at  the 
creek,  Mr.  Brice  obediently  followed  his 
erratic  probationer  to  her  own  house. 

"Aun'  Hestah,"  he  ventured,  as  they 
drew  near  the  mansion,  "reckon  yo' 
needn'  trubble  'bout  dem  locusses;  I's 
gwine  tuh  pray  double  dis  time  an'  hole 
up  on  insec's." 

"Yo'  ain'  gwine  tuh  lose  yo'  saint- 
ship  'caze  o'  me,"  returned  Aunt  Hester 
reassuringly.  "I's  got  meh  niece  July 
an 'huh  chillun  in  de  house  sence  de  byhd 
— sence  yo '  done  come  tuh  see  me.  Dem 
boys  kin  pick  up  all  de  locusses  yo '  wants 
in  de  yahd.  Ef  hit  wuh  June,  now,  dey 
166 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

m ought  be  sca'se,  but  bein'  ez  hit  am 
Angus'  dey's  thick  ez  hops.  Does  yo' 
like  'em  fried  er  stewed?" 

"Yo's  pow'ful  thoughtful,  Aun'  Hes- 
tah,"  he  replied  faintly. 

"I  ain'  got  no  wile  honey,"  she  con 
tinued  regretfully,  "but  I  reckon  good 
black  'lasses  gwine  tuh  do  mos '  ez  well. ' ' 

And  the  digestive  organs  of  Mr.  Brice 
recoiled  involuntarily  at  the  prospect  of 
the  ordeal  before  them. 

' '  July, ' '  remarked  Aunt  Hester  to  her 
niece  on  the  eventful  Sunday  morning, 
"has  yo'  done  tuck  Brothah  Brice  he 
brek'fus?" 

"He  say  he  don'  cyah  'bout  none,'* 
returned  July  from  the  depths  of  the 
kitchen;  "he  ain'  eat  a  mossel  sense  he 
been  hyah." 

"He  jus'  p'intedly  got  tuh  have  it," 
returned  Aunt  Hester  firmly.  ' '  Ef  dey  's 
167 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

any  'ligion  in  locusses,  dis  hyah  am  de 
time  he  needs  it.  Lemme  put  de  case 
tub  him.  Dish  'em  up  good  an'  hot;  I's 
gwine  tuh  tote  'em  in  an'  make  him  eat 
'em." 

"Pow'ful  glad  I  ain'  makin'  no  tracks 
todes  bein'  a  saint,"  ejaculated  July 
fervently  as  she  placed  Mr.  Brice's 
breakfast  on  a  plate. 

"Brothah  Brice,"  said  Aunt  Hester, 
approaching  that  gentleman  as  he  sat 
mournfully  beside  the  window,  "hyah 
am  yo'  locusses." 

Brother  Brice  glanced  at  the  plate  and 
immediately  turned  away. 

"On  de  mo'nin'  o'  de  Great  Day,  Aun' 
Hestah,"  he  replied,  "I  don'  eat 
nothin'." 

"Ef  yo'  wants  tuh  baptize  me,"  said 
Aunt  Hester  resolutely,  "yo's  got  tuh 
take  an'  eat  dis  hyah." 

*  '  I  dunno  ez  I  cyah  whuthah  yo 's  bap- 

168 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

tized  er  not,"  he  ejaculated,  goaded  to 
desperation. 

"Brothah  Brice,"  said  Aunt  Hester, 
coming  closer,  "when  yo's  standin'  on 
de  aidge  o'  de  watah  in  yo'  sacrificial 
robes,  would  yo'  like  me  tuh  up  an'  tell 
de  company  'bout  de  raid  roostah  an'  de 
tukkey  hen  I  seen  on  yo'  shouldah  las' 
wintah,  when  yo'  jes'  done  pass  by  Mis- 
tah  Tuhnah's  hen-house?" 

Brother  Brice  started  visibly. 

"I  mought  tell  'em  'bout  dat  black 
bottle  dat  drap  outen  yo'  pocket  yis- 
tidday,  when  yo'  wuh  comin'  outen  de 
wildahness,"  she  continued  relentlessly, 
"an'  'bout  de  widdy  woman  on  de  tow- 
path." 

Aunt  Hester  paused  and  looked  ear 
nestly  at  her  companion.  She  felt  that 
she  had  the  upper  hand. 

"Beckon  yo'  mought  ez  well  take  an' 
eat  yo '  locusses, ' '  she  remarked  suavely, 
169 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

and  Brother  Brice  reluctantly  began  his 
repast. 

"Aun'  Hestah,"  inquired  July,  as 
they  stood  beside  the  Appoquinimink  a 
few  hours  later,  "how  does  yo'  feel  in 
yo'  mine  by  dis  time?" 

"Pow'ful  oneasy,"  returned  Aunt 
Hester  honestly,  casting  an  apprehensive 
eye  upon  the  waters  beside  her. 

"I  don7  see  nohow,"  said  July 
thoughtfully,  "huccum  yo'  tuh  let 
Brothah  Brice  'swade  yo'  dis  a-way. 
'Tain'  like  yo',  Aun'  Hestah,  dat's  whut 
hit  ain'." 

"Gal,"  replied  Aunt  Hester  severely, 
shrinking  a  little  from  the  shadow  of  a 
passing  bird,  "dey's  highah  powahs  den 
Brothah  Brice  done  'swade  me  tuh  do 
dis  ack.  Tain'  safe  tuh  take  no  chances 
'bout  redimption." 

A  large  assemblage  had  gathered  upon 
the  banks  of  the  creek  from  all  around 
170 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

the  neighborhood  to  witness  the  immer 
sion.  Brother  Brice  looked  steadfastly 
at  them  with  a  sense  of  his  own  impor 
tance.  As  on  all  great  occasions,  he  was 
arrayed  in  his  gown  of  dark  chintz  orna 
mented  with  large,  colored  figures,  and 
his  black  silk  hat.  He  felt  that  his  cos 
tume  was  appropriate  and  impressive, 
and  was  therefore  content. 

"Let  dem  in  de  w'ite  robes  'semble 
togathah  on  meh  lef'-han'  side/'  he 
commanded  suddenly.  "Aftah  dey's 
done  been  undah  de  watah  dey  ain'  goats 
no  longah  an'  kin  stand  on  meh  righ'- 
han'  side  'mongst  de  sheep." 

The  white-robed  candidates  accord 
ingly  assembled  as  directed.  These 
robes  were  shapeless  pieces  of  muslin 
gathered  in  at  the  neck  and  again  about 
the  waist,  and  were  not  becoming  to 
forms  inclined  to  rotundity. 

"When  de  hymn  am  bein'  sung,"  con- 
171 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

tinned  Brother  Brice  solemnly,  "Fs 
gwine  tuh  wade  out  ez  fah  ez  I  thinks 
am  propah.  I  spec's  Sistah  Rebecca 
Brown  tuh  wade  out  an  jine  me  when  I 
beckons  tuh  huh.  Will  Sistah  Eoxy 
Bristow  staht  de  hymn?'' 

Mrs.  Bristow,  according,  raised  her 
high,  sweet  soprano  voice  in  the  well- 
known  hymn,  ' '  Swing  Low,  Sweet  Char 
iot,"  which  was  taken  up  by  one  after 
another  of  the  entire  company  and  sung 
to  a  finish. 

Mr.  Brice  meanwhile  had  waded  out 
to  the  desired  location.  His  gown,  being 
unbuttoned,  floated  out  on  the  water 
behind  him,  and  to  a  near-sighted  ob 
server  he  would  probably  have  suggested 
some  large  and  unknown  piece  of  spat- 
terdock.  His  appearance  was  rather 
grotesque  for  a  preacher. 

"Come  on,  Sistah  Rebecca,"  he  called, 
beckoning  to  the  chosen  one,  who  ad- 

172 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

vanced  but  slowly.  She  put  one  foot  in 
the  water  and  quickly  withdrew  it.  Her 
face  showed  fright. 

"I  done  see  a  watah-snake, "  she  said 
in  explanation  of  her  retreat. 

"Go  fohwahd,  Sistah  Rebecca, "  said 
Brother  Noah  Hyatt  encouragingly; 
"de  mo'  snakes  an'  crabs  yo'  treads  on 
de  greatah  yo'  redimption.  Don'  yo' 
'membah  dat  yo'  evil  ackshuns  slides 
f 'om  yo'  when  de  watah  tech  yo'?  Dey 
sometimes  takes  de  shape  o'  reptiles, 
Sistah  Rebecca.  Dat  snake  am  de  fus' 
sin  yo's  done  shed." 

"Glory,  glory,  halleloojah!"  cried 
Sister  Kebecca,  taking  heart  of  grace 
and  rushing  upon  Mr.  Brice  so  suddenly 
that  he  nearly  capsized. 

A  dripping,  gasping  figure  returned 

to  the  shore  and  stood  shivering  in  the 

appointed  place.     Aunt  Hester   slowly 

edged  her  way  towards  it,  unobserved 

173 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

in  the  excitement  of  urging  another  can 
didate  forward. 

" Becky,"  she  whispered,  " would  yo' 
do  dat  ovah  ag'in1?" 

Sister  Rebecca  shook  her  head ;  speech 
was  not  yet  possible.  Water  dripped 
from  her  head  and  face. 

"Whut  it  feel  like  out  yondah?"  con 
tinued  Aunt  Hester  nervously.  "Kin 
yo*  stan'  solid  on  yo'  feets!" 

"De  mud  do  suck,"  said  Sister  Re- 
becca  briefly,  with  a  sudden  return  of 
voice,  and  Aunt  Hester  turned  thought 
fully  away  as  a  second  draggled  sheep 
was  escorted  to  the  fold. 

"Let  Sistah  Hestah  Johnsing  come 
fohwahd,"  shouted  Brother  Brice,  now 
thoroughly  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  his 
occupation. 

"Sistah  Hestah  Johnsing,"  repeated 
Brother  Noah  Hyatt;  "why  ain'  Sistah 
Johnsing  hyah  tuh  ansuh  tuh  de  call?" 
174 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

A  dozen  officious  hands  assisted  Aunt 
Hester  to  the  edge  of  the  water.  There 
she  stopped,  undecided  what  to  do. 

"Lemme  ahgify  wid  huh,"  said 
Brother  Hyatt,  approaching  the  lady 
alone  and  unprotected. 

"Boll,  Johdan,  roll,"  sang  Sister 
Eoxy  Bristow,  hoping  thereby  to  divert 
attention  from  this  unseemly  spectacle. 

"Aun'  Hestah,"  said  Brother  Hyatt 
firmly,  placing  one  hand  between  her 
shoulders  and  the  other  somewhat  fur 
ther  down  her  substantial  spinal  column, 
"we  ain'  gwine  tuh  have  no  puttin'  de 
han'  tuh  de  plough  an*  lookin'  back.  Ef 
yo'  don*  move  intuh  dem  watahs  pow'ful 
quick  de  good  Lawd  am  gwine  tuh  he'p 
me  push  yo'  dah." 

Had  Aunt  Hester  been  a  broncho  the 

sudden  humping  of  her  person  would 

doubtless  have  been  called  bucking;    at 

all  events,  Brother  Hyatt  fell  helplessly 

175 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

back  into  the  arms  of  his  friends  and  did 
not  again  renew  his  persuasions. 

"Aun'  Hestah,"  admonished  Brother 
Brice,  "Ps  waitin'  fuh  yo',  Aun'  Hes- 
tah;  don'  hole  back  no  longah.  Even  de 
li'l  byhds  o'  de  aiah  do  huwah  ovah  yo' 
tuh  he'p  yo'  on  yo'  way." 

Aunt  Hester  cast  a  terrified  glance 
upward  at  the  flock  of  wild  ducks  making 
their  way  towards  the  marsh. 

"Will  yo'  be  dah?"  sang  Sister  Eoxy 
Bristow,  persevering  in  her  efforts  to 
fill  the  embarrassing  pause  by  musical 
selections,  "when  de  gineral  roll  am 
called,  will  you  be  dahf " 

"Ps  a-comin',"  said  Aunt  Hester, 
shutting  her  eyes  and  advancing  blindly. 
"Lawd  ha'  mercy.  Glory  halleloojah! 
Amen." 

The  current  of  the  Appoquinimink  is 
swift  and  strong;  therefore  the  immer 
sions  had  heretofore  been  made  in  the 
176 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

waters  near  the  shore.  Now,  however, 
Brother  Brice  advanced  towards  the  cen 
tre  of  the  stream,  towing  the  reluctant 
suppliant  rapidly  behind  him.  Brother 
Brice  was  tall  and  thin ;  Sister  Johnson 
was  short  and  fat.  Therefore,  when  the 
lady  was  immersed  almost  to  her  neck, 
the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  gentleman 
were  well  above  water  and  his  arms  free 
for  action. 

"Sistah  Johnsing,"  said  Brother 
Brice  solemnly,  "does  yo'  repent  yo' 
sins  an7  evil  ackshuns!" 

Aunt  Hester  nodded  emphatically; 
she  was  most  anxious  to  get  the  ordeal 
over  and  return  to  terra  firma. 

"Let  yo'se'f  loose,  Sistah  Johnsing," 
entreated  Mr.  Brice  as  she  clung  desper 
ately  to  his  arm,  "let  yo'se'f  loose.  Is 
yo'  ready?  Wid  dese  Ifiyah  watahs  I  re 
nounces  yo'  sins  washed  away." 

As  he  rapidly  repeated  the  above  for- 
12  177 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

nmla  he  thrust  the  head  and  shoulders 
of  Aunt  Hester  under  the  water  and  held 
her  there  a  second.  She  emerged  puffing 
like  an  infuriated  porpoise,  her  eyeballs 
protruding  with  fright. 

"Don*  yo*  do  dat  ag'in,"  she  gasped, 
regardless  of  the  future. 

A  very  peculiar  expression  crossed 
the  countenance  of  Mr.  Brice.  "Aun' 
Hestah,"  he  said,  tightening  his  hold 
upon  the  back  of  her  neck,  "dem  locusses 
yo'  done  cook  fuh  me  dis  mo'nin'  make 
me  see  meh  duty  pow'ful  plain;  yo'  goes 
undah,  Aun'  Hestah,  ez  many  times  ez 
I  chooses.  Wid  dese  hyah  watahs  I  re 
nounces  yo'  sins  washed  away,"  and 
under  she  accordingly  went. 

Now  it  was  difficult  for  Mr.  Brice  to 
maintain  an  upright  position  under  the 
circumstances,  and  a  violent  kick  in  the 
abdomen  from  one  of  Mrs.  Johnson's 
wandering  legs  completely  doubled  him 
178 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

up.  For  a  moment  they  struggled 
together  upon  the  bed  of  the  Appoquini- 
mink,  then  rose  to  the  surface  and  were 
promptly  whirled  away  with  the  power 
of  the  current.  Some  distance  down  the 
creek  they  were  picked  up  by  a  passing 
boat,  faint  and  exhausted  indeed,  but 
still  very  much  alive,  and  escorted  to 
their  respective  homes.  Meanwhile  the 
congregation  dispersed  excitedly,  loudly 
discussing  this  most  unexpected  ending 
to  the  immersion. 

Late  that  evening  Brother  Brice  arose 
from  the  couch  where  he  had  been  de 
posited  under  many  blankets  and  with 
fervent  expressions  of  thanksgiving  by 
some  of  his  faithful  sheep.  Casting  a 
furtive  glance  about  to  make  sure  that 
his  attendants  were  asleep,  he  stole 
quietly  to  the  pantry  and  proceeded  to 
devour  everything  within  reach.  Sud- 
179 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

denly  he  paused,  a  loaf  of  bread  in  one 
hand  and  a  slice  of  cold  bacon  in  the 
other. 

"Wisht  I'd  tuck  an'  heP  huh  undah 
fuh  good  an'  all  when  I  had  de  chance," 
he  muttered  vindictively  as  he  attacked 
the  bacon. 

July,  seated  in  Aunt  Hester's  kitchen 
before  the  fire,  lighted  to  warm  blankets 
to  revive  the  latter  when  she  was  car 
ried  home,  heard  a  peculiar  sound  in  the 
next  room  which  emanated  from  the 
huge  mountain  of  a  feather  bed  wherein 
reposed  the  exhausted  lady. 

"Whut  yo'  say,  Aun'  Hestah?"  she 
inquired. 

"Laws,  chile,"  returned  Aunt  Hester, 
"I  didn'  say  nawthin'." 

"Pow'ful  bad  sign  tuh  hyah  noises 
f  'om  de  empty  aiah,"  said  July  gloomily. 

"I  don'  b'lieve  in  signs  nohow,"  re- 
180 


THE    FEAST    OF    LOCUSTS 

turned  Aunt  Hester,  comfortably  turn 
ing  over  on  her  side. 

Again  the  mysterious  sound. 

"Ann'  Hestah,"  cried  July,  "whut  de 
mattah?" 

"G'way,  chile, "  said  Aunt  Hester, 
with  a  deep  chuckle,  "I  jes'  done  'mem- 
bah  de  way  Brothah  Brice  tuck  an' 
puckah  he  mouf  when  he  swallah  dem 
locusses." 


181 


VII 

THE  BEGENERATION  OF  ISAIAH 

ISAIAH  BRISTOW  sat  upon  the  edge  of 
the  pigpen  and  curled  his  bare  toes  re 
flectively.  It  was  scarcely  the  spot  one 
would  have  selected  as  a  resting-place, 
when  the  whole  landscape  glowed  with 
the  mellow  light  of  autumn  and  even 
Poketown  was  idealized  by  the  scarlet 
and  gold  of  the  maples  which  bordered 
its  long,  straggling  street  on  either  side. 
Isaiah,  however,  bent  his  interested  gaze 
into  the  depth  of  the  pen  and  turned  an 
unappreciative  back  towards  the  beauties 
of  nature. 

"Dem  hawgs,"  he  muttered  unctu 
ously,  "am  jes'  p'intedly  fat  tuh 
bustinV 

182 


ISAIAH'S     RE  GENERATION 

Isaiah  stretched  one  leg  as  far  as  it 
would  reach  and  rubbed  the  back  of  the 
nearest  pig  with  his  foot.  It  grunted 
appreciatively. 

"  'Tain'  gwine  tuh  be  long  now,"  he 
apostrophized,  "twell  yo's  done  salted 
down  intuh  spaiah  ribs  an'  bacon.  I's 
gwine  tuh  blow  up  yo'  bladdah  too,  an' 
bus'  it  Chris 'mus  mawnin'.  Y-a-a-s,  suh. 
Sho's  yo'  bawn,  I's  gwine  tuh  do  dat. 
Yo'  done  got  tuh  pay  me  somehow  fuh 
all  de  vittles  I's  tuck  an'  tote  tuh  yo' 
dis  long  time." 

The  pigs   snuffed  hungrily  at  their 
trough.    It  was  quite  empty,  and  Isaiah  ,. 
looked  about  for  means  to  replenish  it;    ' 
he  liked  a  generous  streak  of  fat  in  his 
bacon. 

"Uncl'  Willum  Staff o'd  done  say  dat 
brown  sugar  an'  brandy  make  a  mighty 
sweet  ham,"  soliloquized  Isaiah  as  he 
started  for  the  kitchen. 
183 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

In  Mrs.  Bristow 's  parlor  a  solemn 
conclave  was  assembled.  Brother  Kin- 
nard  Brice  had  been  speaking,  and  his 
right  hand  was  extended,  as  though  in 
the  pulpit. 

"No,  Brothah,"  said  Mrs.  Bristow 
meekly,  in  evident  response  to  an  in 
terrogation,  "Isaiah  he  ain'  got  no 
daddy  at  de  presen'  time,  so  fuh  ez  I 
knows." 

"Splain  yo'se'f,  woman,  splain  yo'- 
se'f,"  admonished  Brother  Brice 
severely. 

"De  time  done  run  out,"  said  Mrs. 
Bristow  quietly.  "I  tuck  an'  got  tied 
up  tuh  Ike  Bristow  befo'  de  squiah,  an' 
dat  on'y  las'  five  yeah;  yo'  knows  dat, 
Brothah  Brice." 

"Yaas,  dat's  so,"  asserted  Aunt  Mar 
tha  Young  and  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs  simul 
taneously. 

"Yo'  am  spected  tuh  go  on  at  de  eend 
184 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

o'  de  time  ef  yo'  likes  yo'  man,"  said 
Mr.  Brice  suggestively. 

"Laws,"  returned  Mrs.  Bristow  im 
patiently,  "I's  pow'ful  glad  tub  git  shed 
o'  Ike  so  easy.  He  tuck  an'  run  off  tub 
Noo  Jahsey  so's  he  could  shake  de  free 
laig  ag'in  long  befo'  de  time  run  out. 
A  mighty  triflin',  ornery,  no- 'count  nig- 
gah,  fo'  sho'." 

"Isaiah  do  grow  mo'  like  he  daddy 
ev'ry  day,"  remarked  Aunt  Martha 
Young  pleasantly. 

Mrs.  Bristow  cast  an  apprehensive 
glance  about  the  room. 

"Brothah  Brice,"  she  whispered  anx 
iously,  "whut  de  mattah  wid  dat  boy, 
anyhow  ? ' ' 

Brother  Brice,  being  at  a  loss  for  an 
appropriate  reply,  merely  shut  his  eyes 
and  wagged  his  head  solemnly  from  side 
to  side,  and  Mrs.  Bristow  resumed  her 
complaint. 

185 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Dey  ain'  no  livin'  wid  him,"  she 
continued,  almost  tearfully.  "He  puts 
'baccy  in  de  teapot  an'  salt  in  de  sugah; 
he  ties  de  tails  o'  de  cats  togethah  an' 
hangs  'em  on  de  clo'es-line;  he  done 
put  red  peppah  on  de  stove  in  de  chu'ch 
las'  Big  Quahtahly  twel^de  mo'nahs  an' 
de  zortahs  all  got  tuh  sneezin'  tuh  wunst ; 
he  ain'  no  morshial  good  'bout  de  house, 
'cept  tuh  feed  de  pigs;  he " 

"Sistah  Bristow,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Brice  suddenly,  "de  chile  am  p'sessed 
of  a  devil." 

"Mo'  likely  he'll  be  p'sessed  ~by  de 
devil,"  muttered  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs  sotto 
voce  to  Aunt  Martha  Young. 

"Y-a-a-s,"  reiterated  Brother  Brice 
convincingly  as  Mrs.  Bristow 's  lower 
jaw  drooped  in  astonishment,  "hit  am 
come  tuh  me  in  a  vision  f 'om  de  Lawd. 
De  Evil  Sperrits  has  done  got  dey  grip 
on  him. ' ' 

186 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

"Laws-a-mussy!"  ejaculated  the 
ladies  in  staccato  chorus. 

"In  days  of  ole,"  continued  the  pas 
tor  impressively,  "de  Evil  Sperrits  tuck 
an'  entah  dem  appointed  fuh  de  puppose, 
an'  wras'le  in  dey  insides.  Hit  am  jes' 
de  same  nowadays,  meh  sistahs.  Y-a-a-s, 
Sistah  Bristow,  dey  wras'le  mos'  out 
landish." 

"Mussiful  powahs!"  exclaimed  Aunt 
Janty  Gibbs,  folding  her  arms  tightly, 
as  though  to  protect  her  interior  organs 
from  unexpected  assault. 

"Whuh  do  dey  go  in  at  when  dey  fus' 
entahs  yo'  body!"  inquired  Aunt  Mar 
tha  Young  with  the  evident  practical  in 
tention  of  closing  her  portals. 

Brother  Brice,  looking  very  wise  and 
virtuous,  considered  for  a  moment. 

"Dey's  plenty  o'  li'l  holes,  Aun' 
Ma 'thy,  whut  leads  f 'om  de  outside  intuh 
yo'  unknown  cavities  inside,"  he  re- 
187 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

turned  loftily.  "Look  at  yo'  nostrils, 
Ann'  Ma 'thy,  look  at  yo'  nostrils." 

"Mighty  tight  squeeze  fuh  a  sizable 
devil  tuh  git  in  dat  a -way,"  observed 
Aunt  Martha  thoughtfully. 

"De  big  ones  goes  in  by  way  o'  de 
mouf,"  explained  Mr.  Brice  lucidly, 
"an*  de  li'l  ones  takes  de  openings  of 
de  yeahs  an'  de  nose  an'  sich.  Dem 
small  Evil  Sperrits  am  pow'ful  active 
wunst  dey  gits  in." 

"Isaiah  suttinly  got  a  scan'lous  big 
mouf,  an'  he  yeahs  zembles  de  jackass," 
said  his  mother  reflectively.  "I  don' 
seem  tuh  'membah  he  nostrils  nohow, 
but  he  nose  am  jes'  p'intedly  flat  tuh  he 
face." 

"Do  he  scratch  he  nose  frequent, ' '  in 
quired  Mr.  Brice  with  a  profound  air. 

Mrs.  Bristow  distinctly  recalled  seeing 
her  son  so  engaged  several  times  re 
cently. 

188 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

"Dat  am  'caze  de  Evil  Ones  wuh 
gwine  in,"  asserted  the  pastor  with  con 
viction;  "de  mo'  dey  has  tuh  scrooge, 
de  mo'  dey  tickles.  I's  fear'd,  Sistah 
Bristow,  Isaiah  am  clean  beyond  redimp- 
tion.  De  Book  done  say,  'Dem  whut  am 
p'sessed  of  devils  shell  in  no  wise  cos' 
'em  out.'  " 

Brother  Brice  sometimes  got  his  quo 
tations  slightly  mixed,  but  as  there  was 
no  one  to  argue  the  point  it  did  not  make 
very  much  difference.  He  now  rose  and 
prepared  to  take  his  leave,  having  stated 
his  theory  as  to  the  degeneracy  of  Isaiah 
entirely  to  his  own  satisfaction. 

The  question  at  issue  was,  however, 
a  serious  matter  to  Mrs.  Bristow.  Exist 
ence  with  Isaiah  was  troublous  at  the 
best  of  times,  and  she  foresaw  direful 
consequences  if  he  should  be  pronounced 
under  the  spell  of  evil  spirits  and  there 
fore  irresponsible  for  his  own  actions; 
189 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

his  mother  believed  that  life  in  the  same 
house  with  her  son  would  not  be  worth 
living  under  those  circumstances. 
Therefore  when  she  saw  her  pastor  pre 
paring  to  depart  without  giving  any 
practical  demonstration  of  his  sympathy 
she  placed  her  ample  form  in  the  door 
way,  thus  barring  the  only  egress. 

"Gas'  'em  out,  Brothah,"  she  cried 
excitedly,  "cas'  'em  out!" 

Mr.  Brice  looked  at  her  in  amazement 
and  endeavored  to  waive  her  aside  that 
he  might  cross  the  threshold,  but  she 
steadfastly  maintained  her  position. 

"Yo's  done  been  sanctified,"  she  con 
tinued  hurriedly,  "yo's  a  holy  man, 
Brothah  Brice — yo'  done  say  so  yo'se'f. 
Gas'  'em  out,  I  say.  Gas'  out  dem  devils 
whut's  wras'lin'  inside  meh  chile.  Ef 
yo'  kain'  cas'  out  a  few  li'l  devils,  yo' 
ain'  no  preachah  nohow." 

"Amen,  dat's  so,"  exclaimed  Aunt 
190 


ISAIAH'S     BEGENEBATION 

Janty  Gibbs  as  though  assisting  at  a 
church  service. 

"Ef  yo'  kain'  do  hit,"  said  Aunt  Mar 
tha  Young  suspiciously,  "why  don'  yo' 
up  an'  say  so?" 

It  was  not  a  part  of  Brother  Brice's 
creed  to  admit  his  inability  to  meet  any 
requirement  of  a  member  of  his  flock; 
he  therefore  temporized  weakly. 

"Ef  yo's  wunst  been  truly  sanctified, 
Aun'  Ma 'thy,"  he  said  with  quiet  re 
proach,  "yo'  kin  cas'  out  devils  any  time 
yo'  chooses.  De  on'y  reason  I  don'  take 
an'  exude  'em  f 'om  dat  sufferin'  chile, 
Isaiah,  am  'caze  I  dunno  jes'  whut  tuh 
do  wid  'em  when  I  tuhns  'em  loose  on 
Poketown. ' ' 

"Cas'  'em  out,  Brothah,  cas'  'em 
out ! ' '  wailed  Mrs.  Bristow,  with  a  vivid 
realization  of  her  difficulties. 

"Aun'  Ma 'thy,"  said  Brother  Brice 
solemnly,  "is  yo'  willin'  tuh  take  yo' 
191 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

chances  wid  'em?  'Membah  de  wo'ds 
o'  de  Book.  Dem  devils  jes'  pointedly 
got  tub  entail  intuh  somebody  when  deys 
cas'  outen  Isaiah." 

Now  Aunt  Martha  herself  was  some 
what  a  student  of  Scripture  and  occa 
sionally  surprised  her  pastor  with  the 
result  of  her  research.  She  had  been 
thinking  deeply,  and  the  fruit  of  her 
cogitations  was  expressed  in  a  single 
word,  evidently  eminently  satisfactory 
in  its  import. 

"Hawgs,"  she  ejaculated  briefly  but 
expressively. 

"Whut  yo'  'ludin'  tuh,  Aun'  Ma  'thy  t 
whut  yo'  'ludin'  tuh?"  said  Mr.  Brice 
doubtfully. 

"De  Book  do  say,"  asserted  Aunt 
Martha  positively,  "dat  de  devil  done 
entah  intuh  pigs  when  hit  was  cas '  outen 
a  pusson,  an'  de  pigs  tuck  an'  drownded 
deyse'fs." 

192 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

"Yo's  wrong,  Ann'  Ma 'thy,"  contra 
dicted  Mr.  Brice  firmly,  "de  Book  don' 
say  nawthin'  'bout  pigs.  Hit  mentions 
swine,  howsomevah,  but  dey  am'  no 
swine  in  dese  days." 

"Hawgs  am  swine,"  said  Aunt  Mar 
tha  quietly,  and  Brother  Brice  realized 
he  could  no  longer  shirk  the  task  of  cast 
ing  out  the  devil  from  Mrs.  Bristow's 
son  and  heir. 

Isaiah,  meanwhile,  had  quietly  visited 
the  kitchen  and  abstracted  a  portion  of 
the  morning's  marketing.  His  mother 
had  invested  in  a  quarter  of  a  barrel  of 
moist  brown  sugar,  so  he  filled  a  bucket 
to  overflowing  with  it  and  looked  about 
for  something  more ;  a  pail  of  milk  was 
set  to  rise,  and  it  appeared  to  him  suit 
able  for  his  purpose.  Heavily  weighted 
by  a  bucket  in  each  hand,  Isaiah  returned 
to  the  pigpen. 

13  193 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

He  was  not,  however,  entirely  satis 
fied  with  the  result  of  his  expedition. 
The  chief  ingredient  he  desired  was  still 
lacking,  and  Isaiah  rubbed  his  nose  and 
reflected  deeply;  if  Mr.  Brice  had  been 
present,  he  might  have  remarked  that 
the  evil  spirits  seemed  to  tickle  insist 
ently. 

Suddenly  a  light  broke  upon  the  per 
plexed  countenance  of  Isaiah,  and  he 
whistled  shrilly  as  he  placed  his  two 
pails  in  a  secluded  corner  and  started 
for  the  neighboring  house  on  the  double 
quick. 

Uncle  William  Stafford  was  startled 
by  a  series  of  imperative  knocks  upon 
his  kitchen  door  and  shuffled  hastily 
across  the  room  to  open  it.  To  him 
appeared  Isaiah  Bristow  in  a  state  of 
great  mental  agitation  and  panting 
heavily. 

"Oh  UncP  Willum,"  gasped  Isaiah 
194 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

breathlessly,  "  Mammy  done  tuck  pow'- 
ful  bad  wid  de  misery  in  huh  stummick. 
She  say  kin  yo'  spaiah  huh  a  sip  o'  gin 
or  mebbe  brandy?  She  jes'  bent  double, 
UncP  Willum,  po'  Mammy.  She  done 
holler  out  loud  wid  de  misery  'caze  hit 
grip  huh  so  bad." 

Uncle  William  reluctantly  produced  a 
cup  from  his  closet. 

"Reckon  I  got  tuh  do  hit,"  he  said 
ungraciously  as  he  left  the  room.  Isaiah 
followed  him  on  tiptoe  and  cautiously 
opened  the  door  which  his  host  had  care 
fully  closed  behind  him.  An  expansive 
grin  adorned  the  countenance  of  the  boy 
as  he  returned  to  the  outer  doorstep. 

"He  done  keep  he  jimmy  John  in  de 
woodpile,"  he  chuckled,  immediately  re 
suming  his  former  pensive  attitude  as 
Uncle  William  was  heard  returning. 

Strange  to  relate,  Isaiah  did  not  at 
once  return  to  his  suffering  mother.  He 
195 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

secreted  himself  instead  behind  the  fence 
and  watched  Uncle  William  walk  slowly 
down  the  street,  then  repaired  to  the 
woodpile  and  triumphantly  produced  a 
half -gallon  demijohn.  It  was  nearly 
full,  Uncle  William  having  replenished 
his  stock  that  very  morning,  and  Isaiah 
again  sought  the  pigpen,  where  he  pro 
ceeded  to  mix  a  milk-punch  of  exceeding 
strength  and  sweetness  and  bestow  it 
upon  the  two  sober  and  well-conducted 
swine  confined  therein.  They  appeared 
to  find  it  most  palatable. 

Isaiah,  absorbed  in  watching  the  milk- 
punch  disappear,  heard  voices  in  the 
rear,  and  turning  beheld  his  mother  and 
her  guests  approaching.  Eetreat  was 
manifestly  impossible,  so  with  much 
presence  of  mind  he  hastily  turned  a 
bucket  over  the  empty  demijohn  and  sat 
down  upon  it. 

"Isaiah,"  said  Mrs.  Bristow,  sadly 
196 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

reproachful,  "whut  yo'  doin'  hyah?  I 
done  tole  yo'  tub  pick  up  chips." 

"I  jes'  come  tuh  feed  de  pigs, 
Mammy,"  replied  Isaiah  innocently. 

"Brothah  Brice,"  said  Aunt  Janty 
suddenly,  "now  am  yo'  chance.  Hyah 
am  de  chile ;  hyah  am  de  hawgs.  Whut 
mo'  does  yo'  ask?" 

"Git  tuh  wuck,  Brothah,  git  tuh 
wuck,"  added  Aunt  Martha  briskly. 

"Dem  pigs,"  said  Mr.  Brice  uneasily, 
"don'  zemble  de  right  breed  tuh  take  in 
Evil  Sperrits.  Eeckon  de  Bible  swine 
b 'longed  tuh  de  razah-back  fambly — 
dese  am  too  big  an'  fat." 

"Whut  de  mattah  wid  de  pigs?"  de 
manded  Mrs.  Bristow,  bristling  with 
wounded  pride;  "dey's  de  bes'  hawgs 
in  Poketown — dem  two  is." 

"Ef  de  devil  entah  intuh  'em,"  said 
Brother  Brice,  seeing  a  possible  avenue 
of  escape  from  his  unwelcome  task,  "yo' 
197 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

kain'  eat  de  pork  nohow,  'caze  it  p'izen 
yo'  twell  yo's  stone  daid." 

"Hit  do  seem  like  a  was'e  o'  good 
meat,"  said  Aunt  Janty  regretfully. 

Mrs.  Bristow,  however,  was  firm.  She 
laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  the  shoulder 
of  her  son  and  announced  her  intention 
of  sacrificing  her  winter  bacon  to  insure 
his  welfare.  Isaiah  squirmed  uneasily; 
he  felt  apprehensive  about  the  personal 
turn  affairs  seemed  to  be  taking. 

"We's  waitin'  fuh  yo',  Brothah 
Brice,"  said  Aunt  Martha  suggestively, 
and  that  gentleman  at  last  rose  to  the 
occasion.  Indeed,  he  rose  in  every  sense 
of  the  word,  for  he  mounted  on  top  of 
the  covered  portion  of  the  pen  and  de 
manded  that  Isaiah  be  hoisted  up  beside 
him.  This  was  a  work  of  considerable 
difficulty,  for  Isaiah  hung  back  and  pro 
tested  strenuously ;  but  Mr.  Brice  hauled 
with  a  will  from  above  while  his  mother 
198 


ISAIAH'S     EEGENEEATION 

and  Aunt  Janty  pushed  vigorously  from 
below,  therefore  he  soon  found  himself 
trembling  abjectly  by  the  side  of  Mr. 
Brice,  who  placed  a  detaining  hand  upon 
his  kinky  little  poll. 

' '  Git  down  on  yo '  knees, ' '  commanded 
the  preacher,  with  a  slight  push,  and 
Isaiah  obediently  knelt  upon  the  uneven 
boards  of  the  roof. 

The  three  women  also  fell  upon  their 
knees  in  front  of  the  pen  and  piously 
crossed  their  arms  upon  their  breasts. 

"0  Lawd,"  said  Mr.  Brice  fervently, 
'  i  gimme  de  magic  wo  'ds  whut  cas  'es  out 
devils;  he'p  me  tuh  put  a  new  haht  in 
dis  hyah  po'  chile;  make  him  diffunt 
f  'om  dis  houah " 

"Amen,  good  Lawd,  amen!"  shouted 
Mrs.  Bristow  emphatically. 

"Ef  dey's  any  Evil  Sperrits  in  dis 
hyah  boy,"  said  Mr.  Brice  in  the  dis 
tinct  tones  in  which  one  addresses  a 
199 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

deaf  person,  "I  commands  'em  tub  come 
fo'th  an'  entail  intuh  dem  pigs." 

He  paused  expectantly,  but  nothing 
happened. 

"Let  yo'  mouf  hang  open,"  he  re 
marked  to  Isaiah,  "so's  de  big  devils  kin 
git  out  easy." 

And  Isaiah,  comprehending  nothing, 
but  badly  frightened,  opened  his  mouth 
as  wide  as  nature  would  permit. 

' '  0  Lawd, ' '  again  entreated  Mr.  Brice, 
"don'  leave  me  tub  git  thu  dis  by  ah  job 
by  mehse'f.  'Tain'  no  time  fuh  triflin', 
dis  by  ah  ain'.  Dis  chile  am  chuck  full 
o  'devils,  good  Lawd.  Am  yo '  gwine  tub 
zert  him  in  he  houah  o'  need?" 

"Dem  hawgs  gittin'  mighty  oneasy," 
said  Aunt  Janty  fearfully. 

And,  indeed,  they  were  very  restless. 

Uncle   William's    brandy   made    up    in 

strength  what  it  lacked  in  quality,  and 

they  felt  strangely  warm  and  exhilarated 

200 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

internally,  as  well  as  disposed  to  quarrel 
with  one  another  and  rebel  at  the  narrow 
confines  of  their  pen. 

Mr.  Brice  observed  these  symptoms 
complacently,  and  resumed  his  exhorta 
tions  with  even  greater  fervor.  His 
right  hand  was  clinched  firmly  in 
Isaiah's  hair,  and  as  he  raised  his  arm 
heavenward  at  frequent  intervals  the 
effect  was  very  painful  to  his  victim, 
who  struggled  vainly  for  freedom. 

"Evil  Sperrits,  big  an'  li'l,"  began 
Mr.  Brice,  "git  outen  de  body  o'  dis 
hyah  chile  by  de  same  holes  yo '  come  in. 
Hyah  am  de  hawgs  waitin'  fuh  yo'.  Dey 
insides  am  jes'  ez  roomy  an'  jes'  ez  spa 
cious  ez  his'n  am.  I  tells  yo'  tuh  git 
outen  dis  boy." 

"Ouch!"  wailed  Isaiah,  "leggo  meh 
haiah." 

"Glory,  glory,  hallelujah!"  shouted 
Mrs.  Bristow,  clapping  violently  as  she 

201 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

swayed  from  side  to  side,  "de  hawgs  has 
got  'em.  Dey  's  got  'em  sho '.  Glory ! ' ' 

"Praise  de  Lawd!  praise  de  Lawd!" 
chanted  Aunt  Janty  and  Aunt  Martha 
in  excited  chorus. 

Inside  the  pen  the  pigs  dashed  wildly 
about,  knocking  against  one  another  and 
making  strange,  guttural  noises  at  fre 
quent  intervals,  a  much  intoxicated  pair. 

"Open  de  do'  at  de  back  o'  de  pen  an' 
let  'em  out,"  commanded  Mr.  Brice,  and 
Aunt  Janty  flew  to  obey  the  mandate. 

* '  De  Evil  Sperrits  am  done  cas '  outen 
dis  hyah  li'l  lamb,"  said  Brother  Brice 
piously,  raising  his  arm  very  high  in 
thanksgiving;  "he  am  meek  an'  lowly 
f 'om  dis  time  fo'th;  he " 

"Leggo,  I  tells  yo',"  shrieked  Isaiah, 
who  had  literally  been  lifted  to  his  feet 
by  the  hair  of  his  head ;  ' '  does  yo '  hyah 
me?  Leggo!" 

As  Mr.  Brice  mechanically  lowered  his 

202 


ISAIAH'S    RE  GENE  RATION 

arm  Isaiah  seized  the  opportunity  to 
butt  his  pastor  violently  in  the  abdomen 
with  his  head,  and  they  rolled  off  the 
roof  together. 

It  was  at  this  moment  Aunt  Janty 
elected  to  open  the  door  of  the  pen,  and 
the  pigs  rushed  out  upon  their  prostrate 
bodies.  For  a  moment  there  was  an  in 
discriminate  mass  of  men  and  animals; 
then  the  pigs  ran  blindly  down  the  street 
with  Isaiah  at  their  heels  and  Mr.  Brice 
in  hot  pursuit.  The  three  women 
brought  up  the  rear,  puffing  like  por 
poises,  but  determined  to  be  in  at  the 
end.  The  chase  was  brought  to  an  ab 
rupt  termination  by  the  canal,  into  which 
the  pigs  plunged,  followed,  without  an 
instant's  hesitation,  by  Isaiah;  he 
would,  indeed,  have  jumped  into  a  fiery 
furnace  rather  than  again  submit  to  the 
clutches  of  Mr.  Brice. 

Now,  Uncle  William  Stafford,  in  com- 
203 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

mon  with  the  rest  of  Poketown,  had  been 
an  interested  spectator  of  the  race  to  the 
canal  and  had  heard  with  astonishment 
Aunt  Martha  Young's  account  of  the 
miracle  just  performed,  that  lady  having 
been  unable  to  keep  up  with  the  proces 
sion  on  account  of  structural  solidity. 
Uncle  William  was  especially  surprised 
to  see  Mrs.  Bristow  risen  from  her  bed 
of  suffering  and  pounding  along  at  no 
mean  speed.  He  shook  his  gray  head 
doubtfully  as  he  entered  his  yard  and 
repaired  to  the  woodpile  to  refresh  him 
self  after  his  walk,  according  to  custom. 
The  refreshment,  however,  appeared  to 
be  lacking. 

"Dat  one  ornery,  zumptious  boy," 
muttered  Uncle  William  angrily  as  he 
shuffled  to  the  fence  which  divided  the 
two  yards.  The  protecting  bucket  had 
been  overturned  and  the  demijohn  lay 
revealed  to  public  gaze. 
204 


ISAIAH'S     REGENERATION 

Uncle  William  crossed  the  fence  with 
some  difficulty,  owing  to  rheumatism, 
and  took  possession  of  his  property.  He 
observed  the  empty  milk-pail  and  the 
crumbs  of  brown  sugar  scattered  upon 
the  ground,  also  the  vacant  pigpen. 
Leaning  against  the  latter  he  pondered 
deeply,  occasionally  shaking  his  head 
and  threatening  vengeance  on  the  absent. 

When  Mrs.  Bristow  returned  to  her 
house  in  a  highly  hysterical  condition 
and  accompanied  by  Aunt  Janty  she 
found  Uncle  William  awaiting  her,  grim 
and  forbidding  in  aspect. 

"Dey's  drownded, "  she  wailed  shrilly, 
"meh  li'l  chile  an  men  two  pigs — bofe 
daid.  Laws-a-mussy !  Bofe  daid  an* 
gone.  Oh,  I's  a  mizzable  sinnah.  Sich 
big,  fat  hawgs  dey  wuz.  Oh,  dear!  oh, 
dear!  Isaiah's  drownded.  Oh,  dear! 
No  bacon  dis  wintah.  0  Lawd,  ha' 
mussy ! ' ' 

205 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Don'  take  on  so,  Sistah  Bristow," 
said  Uncle  William  coldly,  "dey  am'  no 
hope  o'  Isaiah's  bein'  drownded — he 
gwine  tnh  live  tub.  be  hung  yit." 

And  lifting  up  his  empty  demijohn 
Uncle  William  expounded  his  theory. 

Some  little  distance  down  the  tow- 
path  a  canal-boat  landed  a  dripping, 
shivering  boy  and  two  weary,  chastened 
pigs.  The  walk  back  was  long  and 
dreary  and  only  accomplished  after 
much  trouble,  for  the  pigs  showed  an 
irrepressible  inclination  to  lie  down  and 
slumber.  Isaiah,  however,  knew  better 
than  to  appear  at  home  without  them; 
their  presence,  indeed,  was  his  only 
chance  of  salvation.  So  he  urged  them 
onward  by  violently  pulling  their  tails 
in  the  wrong  direction  whenever  they 
paused  to  rest,  which,  as  everybody 
knows,  is  the  only  proper  way  to  drive  a 
206 


ISAIAH'S    REGENERATION 

pig,  and  at  last  they  limped  into  their 
yard,  as  abject  a  company  as  one  could 
possibly  imagine. 

Mrs.  Bristow,  sitting  at  her  window 
in  a  state  of  great  mental  exhaustion, 
saw  them  approaching  from  afar  off  and 
considered  her  course  of  action  care 
fully;  she  felt  averse  to  further  efforts 
to  reform  her  son  and  much  inclined  to 
ignore  the  events  of  the  afternoon 
entirely. 

"I  done  got  de  smartes'  an'  mos' 
ornery  boy  ez  well  ez  de  fattes',  mos' 
scan'lous  hawgs  in  Poketown,  an'  I 
reckon  I  jes'  got  tuh  put  up  wid  'em," 
she  murmured  with  a  certain  pride  in 
her  possessions  as  Isaiah  cautiously  un 
latched  the  back  gate. 


207 


VIII 

THE   RETURN   OF    SISTER 
JULIANA 

SISTEB  JULIANA  JACKSON  was  about  to 
enter  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow.  She 
lay  motionless  upon  the  one  highly 
prized  feather-bed  of  the  establishment, 
closely  covered  with  the  best  patchwork 
quilt.  Outside  the  mercury  wavered  un 
certainly  between  ninety  and  ninety-five 
degrees,  but  when  one  is  preparing  to 
renounce  earthly  treasures  forever,  one 
is  surely  entitled  to  the  best  the  house 
affords  regardless  of  temperature.  Sis 
ter  Juliana  realized  this,  and  had  herself 
commanded  her  transfer  from  corn-husk 
to  feathers  when  her  hours  were  pro 
nounced  numbered. 

On  her  right  sat  her  husband,  some- 
208 


RETURN    OF    JULIANA 

what  self-conscious  in  the  dignity  of  his 
position  as  chief  mourner;  on  her  left 
was  her  pastor,  ready  at  any  moment 
with  an  appropriate  text  or  a  few  words 
of  prayer;  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
crouched  old  Aunt  Judy;  and  at  the 
head  stood  Sister  Roxy  Bristow,  waving 
a  large  turkey-feather  fan  to  and  fro 
with  a  slow,  rhythmical  movement. 

' '  Sistah  Juliana, ' '  said  the  pastor  anx 
iously,  "how  does  yo'  feel  in  yo'  sperrit, 
Sister  Juliana? " 

Not  even  the  quiver  of  an  eyelid  be 
trayed  that  the  recumbent  figure  under 
stood  his  remark.  Her  husband  leaned 
forward  and  took  her  hand  in  his,  but  it 
fell  limp  and  nerveless  from  his  grasp. 
Mrs.  Bristow  immediately  restored  it  to 
its  former  position. 

"Hit  am  mo'  fittin',  Brothah  Jack 
son,"  she  said  severely,  "fV  a  soul  tuh 
go  tuh  glory  wid  de  ahms  crossed  pious- 
14  209 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

like  on  de  breas'  den  tub  let  'em  mean- 
dah  all  ovah  de  baid." 

Brother  Jackson  groaned  beavily  in 
response. 

"Take  me  wid  yo',  Juliana,'*  be  en 
treated  earnestly, i  i  take  me  wid  yo '. " 

Old  Aunt  Judy  raised  ber  quavering 
voice  in  indignant  protest. 

"Don'  yo'  do  bit,  Juliana,"  sbe  cried 
quickly.  "Git  away  tub  glory  'tbout  no 
triflin'  niggabs  bangin'  tub  yo'  petti- 
cuts.  Git  off  by  yo'se'f,  boney,  wben  yo' 
kin;  don'  yo'  make  no  mistake  'bout 
dat." 

"Aun'  Judy,"  remonstrated  tbe  pas 
tor  sadly,  "wbut  yo'  done  say  am  empty 
wo'ds.  Sistab  Juliana  ain'  gwine  tub 
bave  no  petticuts  in  de  Noo  Jerooselum 
f ub  nobody  tub  bang  on  tub. ' ' 

1 1  Take  me  wid  yo ',  Juliana, ' '  repeated 
tbe  sorrowing  busband, ' '  I  wants  tub  git 
in  too." 

210 


EETUEN    OF    JULIANA 

"  'Tain't  noways  likely  yo's  gwine  tub 
git  in  ef  yo'  don'  go  wid  huh,"  muttered 
Aunt  Judy  unkindly. 

"Brothah  Reese,"  interposed  Mrs. 
Bristow  hastily,  "kain't  yo'  light  de  way 
fuh  Sistah  Juliana  wid  de  lamp  o' 
prayah?" 

"I  done  set  huh  gropin'  soul  on  de 
straight  an'  narrah  way  twict  in  de 
las'  houah,  Sistah  Roxy,"  responded 
Eeese  huskily,  "an'  men  mouf  do 
feel  pow'ful  dry  an'  pa'ched-like  fV 
sho'." 

It  appeared  to  be  a  matter  of  indiffer 
ence  to  Sister  Juliana  whether  her  way 
was  lighted  by  prayer  or  darkened  by 
neglect. 

"In  de  kitchin,"  suggested  Mr.  Jack 
son,  in  properly  subdued  accents,  "dey's 
cookin'  de  funeral  ham.  Reckon  yo' 
mought  step  out  an'  see  whut  mo'  yo' 
kin  find,  Brothah  Reese." 
211 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

And  Brother  Reese  stepped  out  with 
some  celerity. 

"Brothah  Jackson/'  said  Mrs.  Bris- 
tow  softly,  "I  feels  fo'  yo',  Brothah 
Jackson. " 

"I  knows  yo'  does,  Sistah  Boxy,"  he 
replied  gratefully. 

An  almost  imperceptible  movement 
stirred  the  surface  of  the  patchwork 
quilt,  and  both  watchers  concentrated 
their  attention  upon  it  for  a  moment. 

"De  rus'le  o'  de  Daith  Angil,"  whis 
pered  Mrs.  Bristow,  with  a  long  sweep 
of  her  fan ; ' 'he  done  huwah  ovah  Sistah 
Juliana  dat  time." 

"He  flap  he  wings  an'  pass  huh  by 
onct  mo',"  returned  Mr.  Jackson  in  awe 
struck  tones,  and  again  they  lapsed  into 
silence,  while  Aunt  Judy  raised  her  head 
and  gazed  intently  at  the  bed. 

"I's  gwine  tuh  be  pow'ful  lonely," 
said  Mr.  Jackson,  with  a  heavy  sigh. 
212 


RETURN    OF    JULIANA 

"Dat's  so,  Brothah  Jackson,  dat's 
so,"  agreed  Mrs.  Bristow  sympatheti 
cally,  "but  hit  am  de  will  o'  Gawd.  I 
done  been  lonely  mehse'f  dis  long  time, 
sence  Jake  tuck  an'  got  hisse'f  drownded 
in  de  Pigeon  Run." 

"Hit  don'  seem,"  said  Mr.  Jackson 
thoughtfully,  "ez  ef  de  watah  in  de  Run 
wuh  deep  'miff  tuh  drownd  Jake  no 
how." 

"Ef  yo's  too  drunk  tuh  git  outen  a 
mud-puddle,  I  reckon  yo'  mought  git 
drownded  ef  yo'  nose  wuh  in  de  mud," 
returned  Mrs.  Bristow  somewhat 
shortly,  but  as  though  the  subject  did 
not  interest  her  personally. 

"I  kin  fry  yo'  bacon  fuh  yo'  ev'ry 
mo'nin',"  she  volunteered,  after  a  slight 
pause.  "Yo  kin  git  it  ovah  de  fence." 

"Yo's     pow'ful     thoughtful,     Sistah 
Roxy,"  he   responded   sadly,   "hit   am 
lucky  de  gyahdens  j  'ines  at  de  back. ' ' 
213 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Yo'  mought  take  down  some  o'  de 
fence  so's  I  kin  run  in  an'  out  an'  keep 
yo'  house  clean,"  she  suggested  fur 
ther. 

"Yo'  sho'  am  gwine  tuh  be  a  comfo't 
tuh  a  lonely  widdah-man,  Sistah  Boxy," 
he  returned  appreciatively. 

Again  there  was  a  slight  movement 
of  the  quilt,  and  again  they  watched 
breathlessly  for  the  flight  of  the  spirit  of 
Sister  Juliana,  which,  however,  still 
clung  tenaciously  to  its  house  of  clay. 

Brother  Jackson  wiped  the  beads  of 
perspiration  from  his  forehead  and 
glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  door 
communicating  with  the  kitchen,  whence 
came  appetizing  odors  and  the  subdued 
hum  of  many  voices. 

"I  done  been  settin'  on  dis  hyah  stool 
sence  airly  mo'nin',"  he  remarked, 
plaintively. 

"Yo'  sho'  done  yo'  bes'  tuh  make  de 
214 


EETUKN    OF    JULIANA 

passin'  easy  fuh  Sistah  Juliana,"  re 
turned  Mrs.  Bristow  warmly;  "  Hain't 
many  men  kin  set  so  quiet  at  a  time  like 
dis  hyah.  Dey  mos'ly  gits  rampageous 
when  de  ham  begins  tuh  bile. ' ' 

"Don'  yo'  speechify  'bout  hams,"  he 
said  mournfully.  "Juliana  set  sich 
stock  on  'em  dat  de  grunt  o'  de  pig 
am  like  tuh  bus'  meh  haht,  Sistah 
Boxy." 

Sister  Eoxy  waved  her  fan  mechani 
cally  and  glanced  about  the  apartment 
in  a  proprietary  manner. 

"Dem  wax-flowahs  hadn'  ought  tuh 
set  so  close  tuh  de  windah  nohow,"  she 
remarked  irrelevantly;  "de  sun  done 
melt  de  watah-lily  scan  'lous. ' ' 

"Yo'  kin  change  de  place,  Sistah 
Eoxy,"  replied  Mr.  Jackson  obligingly; 
"ack  ez  ef  de  house  wuh  your'n,  an'  do 
jes'  whut  yo'  'zires,"  and  Mrs.  Bristow 
smiled  as  though  satisfied  as  she  moved 

215 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

the  glass  case  of  waxen  blossoms  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room. 

"I  feels  faint-like  and  hollah  inside," 
resumed  the  gentleman  after  a  long 
silence.  "Dis  am  a  mighty  sad  'casion 
fuh  me,  Sistah  Boxy,  an'  meh  haht  am 
soon  gwine  tuh  be  ez  empty  ez  meh  stum- 
mick,  but  hit  am  de  will  o'  Gawd,  ez  yo' 
done  'pinionate,  Sistah." 

"De  stummick,"  remarked  the  lady 
reflectively,  "kin  git  filled  up  an'  easy- 
like  ag'in.  How  'bout  de  haht,  Brothah 
Jackson,  how  'bout  de  haht?" 

"Sistah  Boxy,"  he  returned  sorrow 
fully,  "will  yo'  walk  home  wid  me  f 'om 
de  grave  when  we  lays  Juliana  away? 
I's  gwine  tuh  need  de  suppoht  o'  frien's 
ez  well  ez  'ligion  tuh  keep  me  up,  Sis 
tah." 

"Brothah  Jackson,"   she  responded, 
with  evident  appreciation  of  the  compli 
ment,  "yo  kin  lean  on  me  ef  yo'  so  'zires. 
216 


RETURN    OF    JULIANA 

I's  gwine  tuh  he'p  yo'  beah  up  undah 
yo'  'fliction,  Brothah  Jackson. " 

"Sistah  Boxy,"  he  replied  gallantly, 
"come  wid  me  tuh  de  kitchin.  Yo'  an* 
me  has  done  set  hyah  dis  long  time 
wotchin'  fuh  de  Daith  Angil  tuh  light 
on  Juliana.  Yo'  mus'  be  tired  an'  hon- 
gry,  'caze  yo'  done  fan  huh  long  an* 
faithful.  Lemme  conduc'  yo'  tuh  de 
kitchin,  Sistah  Eoxy.  Aun'  Judy  kin 
wotch  out  fuh  de  flies. " 

Had  the  patient  watchers  looked  be 
hind  them  as  they  transferred  the  fan 
to  Aunt  Judy  and  made  a  hasty  exit, 
they  might  have  observed  that  Sister 
Juliana's  eyes  had  opened  and  were 
fixed  upon  them  with  the  expression  of 
one  who  contemplates  earthly  rather 
than  heavenly  transactions. 

"Juliana,"  whispered  Aunt  Judy, 
bending  close  over  the  bed,  "does  yo' 
see  him,  Juliana?" 

217 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

But  the  heavy  eyelids  dropped  wearily 
as  though  to  shut  out  forever  all  unwel 
come  sights. 

"She  done  move  yo'  flowahs,  honey," 
continued  the  old  woman;  "she  tuck 
an'  move  yo'  flowahs  Pom  de  place 
yo'  done  selected.  Does  yo'  hyah  me, 
Juliana  V9 

Juliana,  however,  still  remained  indif 
ferent  to  transitory  things. 

"Dey  done  kill  yo'  raid  roostah,"  re 
sumed  Aunt  Judy  eagerly,  "an7  de  ole 
speckled  hen  too,  tuh  bile  fuh  de  funeral 
dinnah.  Dey  done  got  yo'  mos'  buried, 
honey.  Does  yo '  hyah  me,  Juliana  1  He 
am  up  tuh  he  same  ole  tricks;  dey  ain' 
a  mo '  flirtatious  niggah  in  Poketown  den 
Jeremiah  Jackson." 

Aunt  Judy  paused  for  breath  and 
gazed  intently  at  the  motionless  figure. 

"Don'  yo'  go,  Juliana,"  she  contin 
ued  insistently,  "don'  yo'  give  dat  no- 
218 


RETUEN    OF    JULIANA 

'count  niggah  no  chance  tub  shake  de 
free  laig  ag'in." 

Encouraged  by  a  slight  quiver  of  the 
eyelid,  Aunt  Judy  went  on  breathlessly : 

"Does  yo'  zire  Eoxy  Bristow  tub  set 
up  in  yo'  house  an'  fry  yo'  bacon?  Is 
yo'  gwine  tub  'low  huh  tub  move  yo' 
flowahs  an'  pass  de  time  o'  day  wid 
yo'  husban'  ovah  yo'  haid?  Come  back 
an'  spite  'em,  Juliana.  Come  back, 
honey!  I  knows  yo'  kin,  'caze  yo'  time 
ain'  come  yit;  I  knows  hit  by  de  Alma 
nac.  Come  back,  I  tells  yo'!  Juliana, 
does  yo  by  ah  me?  Juliana!" 

The  door  opened  suddenly  to  admit 
Brother  Eeese,  who  entered  with  the 
sleek  and  unctuous  manner  of  one  who 
has  dined  to  repletion  upon  greasy  but 
highly  satisfactory  viands.  He  was  fol 
lowed  by  a  mixed  assembly  of  neighbors 
who  had  been  assisting  in  the  prepara 
tion  of  the  funeral  meats,  and  finally  by 
219 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Brother  Jackson  and  Sister  Boxy,  who 
at  once  resumed  their  former  positions. 

"Sistah  Juliana, "  inquired  Brother 
Reese  with  interest,  "has  yo'  gone  home, 
Sistah  Juliana?" 

' '  Take  me  wid  yo ',  Juliana, ' '  said  Mr. 
Jackson,  returning  mechanically  to  his 
former  appeal,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
knows  the  proper  thing  to  say  under  the 
circumstances. 

"Say  a  few  wo  Ms  tuh  he'p  us  all, 
Brothah  Eeese,"  urged  Mrs.  Bristow, 
taking  possession  of  the  fan;  "we's  all 
got  tuh  follah  aftah  Sistah  Juliana  some 
day.  Light  de  dahk  way,  Brothah,  light 
de  dahk  way." 

"Meh  frien's,"  said  Brother  Reese, 
rising  and  spreading  his  hands  out  over 
the  bed,  "yo'  sees  befo'  yo'  a  soul  bustin' 
f 'om  a  sinful  body.  De  body  am  de  dus' 
o'  de  yearth;  de  soul  am  de  clouds  o'  de 
aih." 

220 


RETURN    OF    JULIANA 

"Amen,  dat's  so,"  agreed  Mrs.  Bris- 
tow  emphatically. 

"Some  clouds, "  continued  Brother 
Reese  earnestly,  "am  black,  an'  some 
am  w'ite,  same  ez  some  skins  am  black 
an'  some  am  w'ite.  De  good  folks  has 
de  w'ite  souls  an'  de  bad  folks  has  de 
black,  no  mattah  whut  skin  dey  had  tuh 
begin  wid. ' ' 

"Glory,  glory,  halleloojah!"  shouted 
Mrs.  Bristow  triumphantly. 

"Hit  ain'  fuh  me  tuh  say  whut  am  de 
colah  o'  Sistah  Juliana's  soul,"  resumed 
the  preacher  sadly;  "she  wuh  mo'  apt 
tuh  set  tuh  home  den  go  tuh  chu'ch;  she 
done  cook  an'  wuck  roun'  de  house  on 
de  Day  o'  Res';  an'  she  tuhn  huh  yeah 
frequent  tuh  de  'ticemints  o'  ole  Satan, 
but  I  hopes  huh  soul  am  w'ite.  Y-a-a-s, 
good  Lawd,  I  hopes  huh  soul  am  w'ite." 

Quite  overcome  by  his  own  eloquence, 
Brother  Reese  paused  dramatically  and 
221 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

mopped  his  forehead,  evidently  forget 
ting  that  the  soul  of  Sister  Juliana  still 
lingered  in  its  earthly  habitation. 

"Sistah  Boxy,"  he  commanded  pom 
pously,  "keep  de  flies  off  en  de  co'pse, 
Sistah  Boxy." 

The  eyes  of  Sister  Juliana  slowly 
opened  a  second  time. 

"I  ain'  daid  yit,"  she  said  quietly. 

The  effect  of  this  assertion  upon  the 
assembled  company  was  somewhat  para 
lyzing.  Brother  Beese,  however,  im 
mediately  recovered  his  self-posses 
sion. 

"Bepent,  Sistah  Juliana,"  he  cried 
loudly;  "de  Lawd  done  give  yo'  dis  li'l 
time  longah  tuh  spachiate  yo'  sins. 
Now's  yo'  chance,  Sistah  Juliana,  now's 
yo'  chance." 

"A-a-amen!"   chorussed   the   excited 
neighbors,  who  now  filled  the  little  room 
almost  to  the  point  of  suffocation. 
222 


RETURN    OF    JULIANA 

Sister  Juliana  turned  her  troubled 
eyes  towards  the  kitchen  door. 

"Yo'  done  lef  de  tea-kittle  on  de  fiah 
'thout  no  watah,  an'  hit  am  gwine  tuh 
bus'  ef  yo'  ain'  cyahful,"  she  said  feebly, 
and,  indeed,  an  odor  of  red-hot  iron  per 
meated  the  apartment. 

"Juliana,"  cried  Aunt  Judy  hysteri 
cally.  "Yo'  done  hyah  me,  Juliana. 
Praise  de  Lawd!" 

"Dis  ain'  no  'casion  tuh  think  'bout 
kittles,  Sistah  Juliana,"  remonstrated 
the  preacher;  "let  yo'  las'  wo'ds  be  fuh 
de  husban'  who  done  wotch  an'  pray  by 
yo'  dis  long  time." 

"Ain'  yo'  got  no  wo'd  fuh  me,  Ju 
liana?"  inquired  that  gentleman  patheti 
cally. 

Sister  Juliana  caught  weakly  at  the 
feathers  of  the  fan  as  it  passed  annoy- 
ingly  close  to  her  nose. 

"Stop  dat!"  she  commanded  irrita- 
223 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

bly,  and  Mrs.  Bristow  paused  in  aston 
ishment. 

"Lawd,"  entreated  Brother  Reese 
fluently  as  he  dropped  upon  his  knees, 
"reach  out  yo'  ahms  tuh  dis  po',  flutter- 
in'  li'l  soul.  Hit  am  on'y  a  po',  weak 
female  woman,  good  Lawd,  yo'  knows 
dat.  She  done  fall  by  de  wayside  maybe, 
but  of  c'ose  she  kain'  be  strong  tuh  'zist 
ole  Satan  like  a  man  am  strong. " 

"Lis'en  tuh  dem  wo  Ms,  good  Lawd," 
interpolated  the  sorrowful  husband. 

"She  ain'  gwine  tuh  have  de  ahm  o' 
huh  husban'  tuh  suppoht  huh  thu'  de 
Noo  Jerooselum,"  continued  Brother 
Eeese  fervently,  "she  am  on'y " 

"Say  'Amen,'  "  interrupted  Sister 
Juliana  irreverently  as  she  sat  upright 
in  her  bed  and  glared  inhospitably  at 
her  uninvited  guests,  "say l  Amen'  quick, 
now,  an'  git  off  en  yo'  knees." 

"Huh  mine  do  wandah,"  said  Brother 
224 


BETUBN    OF    JULIANA 

Eeese  charitably  as  he  rose  obediently. 
"Prepare  fuh  de  wuss,  Brothah  Jack 
son,  prepare  fuh  de  wuss.  De  houah  am 
come.  Lawd,  open  de  Golden  Gate  an' 
let  dis  sinnah  in." 

Sister  Juliana  pointed  with  trembling 
finger  to  the  outer  door. 

"Yo'  mought  ez  well  go  home,"  she 
remarked  to  her  astonished  neighbors, 
"dey  am'  gwine  tuh  be  no  funeral  in  dis 
hyah  house  yit  a-whiles." 

"Juliana,"  cried  Aunt  Judy  joyfully, 
"  yo  's  back  ag  'in  f o '  sho ',  honey. ' ' 

One  by  one  the  guests  departed 
silently,  omitting  the  customary  farewell 
to  the  hostess. 

"Beckon  yo'  mought  ez  well  light  out 
wid  'em,"  suggested  that  lady  to  her 
pastor,  who  shook  his  head  mournfully 
as  he  complied  with  the  request. 

Sister  Juliana  then  turned  to  her  hus 
band,  resolution  in  her  whole  attitude. 
15  225 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

' '  Put  back  dem  wax  flowahs, ' '  she  com 
manded  quietly. 

"  Jes'  ez  yo'  'zires,  Juliana,  jes'  ez  yo' 
'zires,  honey/7  he  replied,  hastening  to 
obey  her  mandate. 

"Good-by,  Sistah  Boxy,"  she  mur 
mured,  sinking  wearily  down  in  her 
feather  bed;  "Aun'  Judy  kin  show  yo' 
de  way  outen  de  front  do '.  Sistah  Boxy, 
yo'  needn'  trubble  yo'se'f  'bout  no  back 
fence;  we's  gwine  tuh  move  'cross  de 
bridge  next  month  anyhow.  Aun'  Judy, 
open  de  front  do '  f uh  Sistah  Boxy. ' ' 

And  Aunt  Judy  did  so  with  alacrity. 

"Fole  up  de  patch wuck  quilt,"  con 
tinued  Mrs.  Jackson,  addressing  her 
husband,  "an'  tote  in  de  cawn-shuck 
mattress — kain'  wais'  dis  hyar  good 
f eathah  baid  tun  git  well  in. ' ' 

"Juliana,"  he  ventured  deprecatingly, 
"honey,  is  yo'  sho'?" 

"Git  tuh  wuck,"  she  interrupted  ruth- 
226 


EETURN    OF    JULIANA 

lessly.  "Yo'  am'  gwine  tub  walk  home 
f  'om  my  grave  on  yo'  tip-toes  wid  Boxy 
Bristow  nohow,  'caze  dey  ain'  gwine  tuh 
be  any  grave.  Yo'  done  thunk  de  noise 
o'  de  cherrybims  pickin'  dey  banjoes  fill 
meh  yeahs  twell  I  didn'  hyah  yo'  speech 
ify  wid  huh.  I  done  see  de  sheep 's-eyes 
yo'  tuck  an*  cas'  at  huh  ovah  meh  dyin' 
baid.  Git  de  cawn-shuck  mattress, " — 
Sister  Juliana  paused  and  looked  long 
and  earnestly  at  her  lord  and  master, — 
"yo'  ornery,  lazy,  triflin',  big-mo  uf 
niggah!"  she  finished  impersonally,  her 
voice  growing  faint  from  physical  weak 
ness. 

The  change  was  finally  effected  and 
Mrs.  Jackson  reposed  uncomfortably 
upon  her  knobby  corn-husk  bed  covered 
with  a  sheet  of  unbleached  muslin,  weary 
but  triumphant. 

"Pull  down  de  windah  shades,"  she 
commanded  her  husband,  recalling  that 

227 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

gentleman  as  he  was  about  to  steal 
quietly  from  the  room,  "an*  set  down  on 
dat  stool  tuh  keep  de  flies  often  me.  I 
wants  tuh  take  a  nap.  Git  a  fan  now  an' 
go  tuh  wuck." 

Throughout  the  remainder  of  the  long 
summer  day  Brother  Jackson  sat  alone 
beside  the  wife  so  unexpectedly  returned 
to  him  from  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and 
waved  his  feather  fan,  even  as  Mrs.  Bris- 
tow  had  wafted  it  a  few  hours  previous. 
Did  he  falter  in  his  duty,  overcome  by 
the  drowsiness  inseparable  from  the 
quiet  of  the  room  and  the  monotony  of 
his  occupation,  a  querulous  voice  re 
called  him  from  oblivion  with  the  indis 
putable  assertion: 

"I  ain'  daid  yit,  Jeremiah  Jackson. 
I's  come  back,  I  has.  Keep  on  fanning 
I's  still  hyah." 


228 


IX 
A  VERY  WISE  VIRGIN 


wuz  ten  o'  dem  virgins,"  said 
Lavinia  Simmons  sulkily. 

'  '  Laws-a-mussy,  '  '  returned  her  mother 
briskly,  "ain'  dey  mo'  en  ten  shif'less, 
no-  'count  gals  loafin'  roun'  Poketown, 
tell  me  dat?" 

Lavinia  murmured  an  assent. 

"Five  of  'em  wuz  wise,  an'  five  of 
'em  wuz  fullish,"  continued  Mrs.  Sim 
mons,  bringing  her  iron  down  upon  the 
garment  spread  before  her  with  consid 
erable  force.  "Dem  ez  wuz  wise  lighted 
dey  lamps  an'  cotched  dey  man  all  safe; 
dem  ez  wuz  fullish  stayed  ole  maids." 

"Whut  yo'  speechifyin'  tuh  me  dis 
a-  way  fuh?"  demanded  Lavinia  with  an 
aggrieved  air. 

229 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"  'Gaze  hit  am  pow'ful  shameful  fuh 
a  gal  tuh  be  a'  ole  maid,  an'  ef  yo'  don' 
up  an'  hus'le  fuh  a  bridegroom  yo's 
gwine  tuh  be  one  sho'.  Does  yo'  s'pose 
dem  virgins  set  on  de  sofy  an'  waited  tuh 
be  co 'ted?  No,  suh!  dem  gals  up  an' 
hunted  fuh  deyselves,  dat's  whut  dey 
done." 

Lavinia  muttered  that  she  did  not 
care. 

"An'  whut's  mo',"  continued  her 
mother  reflectively,  "hit  don'  seem  tuh 
me  ez  ef  ole  maids  gits  tuh  heav'n. 
Leas 'ways,  I  don'  'membah  no  menshun 
of  'em  gittin'  pas'  old  Petah  at  de 
Gate." 

"Dey  ain'  nawthin'  wicked  'bout  ole 
maids,"  said  Lavinia,  in  faint  protest 
against  such  wholesale  exclusion. 

"Hit  am  dis  a-way,"  explained  Mrs. 
Simmons  condescendingly.  "Ef  a  gal 
ain'  got  gumption  'nuff  tuh  hook  a  man 
230 


A    VERY    WISE    VIRGIN 

o'  some  soht,  den  dey  ain'  got  no  use 
fuh  huh  Up  Above.  Ef  she  kain'  do  dat, 
she  kain'  do  nawthin'  nohow." 

"Whut  mus'  I  do  fus'?"  inquired 
Lavinia  with  the  air  of  a  martyr. 

"Dat  am  'co'din'  tuh  who  yo'  has  yo' 
eye  on,"  said  her  mother  reflectively; 
' '  dey 's  a  heap  o '  diffunce  in  men.  Some 
of  'em  'zembles  flies — ef  yo'  wants  tuh 
ketch  'em,  all  yo's  got  tuh  do  am  tuh  set 
wid  yo'  mouf  open  an'  in  dey  draps." 

Mrs.  Simmons  took  a  fresh  iron  and 
held  it  near  her  cheek  to  ascertain  its 
temperature. 

"But  den,  ag'in,  dey's  men,"  she  re 
sumed  slowly,  "whut  yo'  has  tuh  ack 
mighty  cautious-like  wid,  an'  sasshay 
roun'  on  yo'  tip-toes  ez  faskinatin'  ez 
de  young  guzelle." 

Mrs.  Simmons 's  ideas  of  gazelles  were 
somewhat  hazy,  hut  she  believed  them  to 
be  a  species  of  enchantress. 
231 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Hit  'zembles  huntin'  aftah  pos 
sums, ?>  she  said  thoughtfully;  "de  mo' 
yo'  has  tuh  chase,  de  mo'  tickled  yo'  am 
in  yo'  msides  when  yo'  gits  him  up  a 
tree  fo'  sho'.  'Tain'  de  same  feelin'  yo' 
has  fuh  de  runts  yo'  gits  'thout  no  wuck 
tuh  ketch  'em." 

"Heap  mo'  trubble,"  said  Lavinia, 
yawning. 

"Heap  sweetah  possum,"  returned 
her  mother  briefly  as  she  put  away  her 
ironing-board  and  prepared  to  carry 
home  the  clothes. 

On  her  way  she  mentally  reviewed  all 
the  eligibles  of  Poketown,  not  omitting 
Brother  Noah  Hyatt,  notorious  for  his 
aversion  to  the  fair  sex.  Mrs.  Simmons 
walked  around  his  neat  little  cottage  and 
regarded  it  with  evident  approval. 

"Dey'd  be  some  credit  tuh  de  gal  whut 
could  tree  Brothah  Hyatt,"  she  mur 
mured  as  she  resumed  her  line  of  march. 
232 


A    VERY    WISE    VIRGIN 

A  knot  of  her  cotemporaries  were  gath 
ered  at  the  door  of  Aunt  Martha  Young, 
excitedly  discussing  some  subjects  of 
absorbing  interest. 

"He  done  got  a  house  wid  a  gyah- 
din,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Martha  as  Mrs. 
Simmons  approached. 

"An'  a  yallah  meule  an'  a  no-top 
buggy  wid  blue  wheels,"  added  Aunt 
Janty  Gibbs. 

"A  melojon  in  he  bes'  room,  pictuhs 
on  he  walls,  an'  two  pigs,  fat  tuh  bustin', 
in  he  pen, ' '  supplemented  Sister  Rebecca 
Brown,  who  had  a  taste  for  the  material 
as  well  as  the  ornamental. 

"An'  he  done  guv  out  at  de  sperience 
meetin'  ovah  in  Sin  Go'ges  dat  he  on 
de  lookout  fuh  a  wife,"  finished  Mrs. 
Mary  Jane  Finney  breathlessly. 

Mrs.  Simmons  deposited  her  basket  of 
clothes  on  the  ground  and  paused  reso 
lutely.  The  conversation  interested  her. 
233 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Whut  he  name?"  she  demanded  suc 
cinctly. 

"He  name,"  said  Aunt  Janty,  evinc 
ing  no  surprise  at  her  presence,  "am 
Willum  Smith,  an'  he  live  on  de  Dutch 
Neck  Eoad.  He  got  'nuff  hog  meat 
salted  down  tuh  las'  all  wintah,  an'  fifty 
dollahs  in  de  bank. ' ' 

"Laws!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Simmons, 
quite  overcome  by  the  last  statement. 

"I  reckon  Vinny  gwine  tuh  walk  in  de 
Cakewalk  down  tuh  Poht  Penn  nex' 
week,"  continued  Aunt  Janty  thought 
fully.  "Mistah  Smith  done  'low  dat  he 
gwine  tuh  be  dah  tuh  look  de  gals  ovah 
an'  take  he  pick.  All  de  Poketown  gals 
will  walk  dey  pretties',  'caze  dey  ain' 
no  tellin'  whuh  de  lightnin'  mought 
strike.  I's  got  a  new  frock  fuh  'Liza, 
an' " 

"Aun'  Janty,"  interrupted  the  severe 
voice  of  Brother  Hyatt,  who  had  ap- 

234 


A    VERY    WISE    VIRGIN 

preached  from  the  rear,  "whut  dat  I 
hyah?  I's  Astonished  at  yo',  Ann'  Janty, 
dat's  whut  I  is — 'stonished.  Yo'  bettah 
set  'Liza  tuh  makin'  huh  shroud,  so's 
huh  wicked  mind  kin  study  'bout  hell  an' 
damnation.  Cake  walks  am  'ticemints  o' 
ole  Satan.  Keep  de  gal  home,  Aun' 
Janty,  keep  de  gal  home." 

"Dat  whut  I  say,  Brothah  Hyatt,  dat 
whut  I  say,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Simmons 
eagerly ; ' '  gals  am  bes '  tuh  home.  Vinny 
ain'  gwine  nohow  ef  I  kin  keep  huh 
back." 

Brother  Hyatt  walked  on  down  the 
street  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Simmons.  It 
was  a  question  which  agitated  Poketown 
for  some  time  whether  the  lady  moved 
first  and  the  gentleman  joined  her,  or 
vice  versa. 

"Brother  Hyatt,"  said  Mrs.  Simmons 
timidly,  "kin  yo'  drap  in  tuh  my  house 
an'  zort  wid  Vinny?  She  done  got  so 

235 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

wor'ly-minded  dat  I  trimbles  fuh  hub 
lattaheend." 

"Wotch  an'  pray,  Sistah  Simmons, 
wotch  an'  pray,"  counselled  Mr.  Hyatt 
solemnly. 

"De  nights  an'  days- 1  spen's  on  meh 
knees  wras'lin'  wid  ole  Satan  ovah  dat 
gal  yo'  wouldn'  hahdly  b'lieve,  Brothah 
Hyatt,"  said  Mrs.  Simmons,  and,  indeed, 
Mr.  Hyatt  would  have  been  surprised 
could  he  have  known  the  exact  number 
of  said  petitions. 

" Bring  de  gal  befo'  de  Session,"  he 
said  grimly;  "dey  knows  how  tub  han'le 
obstropolous  sinnahs." 

These  very  decided  measures,  how 
ever,  formed  no  part  of  the  designs  of 
Mrs.  Simmons,  and  before  she  parted 
from  Mr.  Hyatt  at  her  own  gate  she  had 
extorted  a  promise  from  him  to  inter 
view  Lavinia  privately  and  point  out  the 
error  of  her  ways,  particularly  with  ref- 

236 


A    VERY    WISE    VIEGIN 

erence  to  cakewalking.  Lavinia  herself, 
at  the  front  window,  greeted  her  mother 
with  a  nervous  giggle. 

"Yo*  done  kotch  ole  man  Noahy 
Hyatt, "  she  said  tauntingly,  "but  yo' 
couldn'  git  him  no  closah  dan  de  gate." 

Mrs.  Simmons  was  so  much  engrossed 
with  her  budget  of  news  that  she  took 
no  notice  of  the  gauntlet  thus  daringly 
flung.  She  told  Lavinia  of  the  pros 
pective  cakewalk,  and  of  Mr.  William 
Smith  in  search  of  a  wife.  The  pros 
pects  of  the  future  Mrs.  Smith  were 
painted  in  glowing  colors  and  his  bank 
account  multiplied  by  three. 

"An*  now,"  finished  Mrs.  Simmons, 
"who  yo'  gwine  tuh  walk  de  cakewalk 
wid?" 

"Willum  Smith,"  said  Lavinia  re 
flectively.  "Laws!  I  'membahs  him. 
He  a  mighty  big-mouf,  long-heeled  nig- 
gahfo'  sho'." 

237 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Reckon  he  mouf  am'  no  biggah  dan 
yo '  own, ' '  returned  her  mother  in  a  with 
ering  manner,  "an'  a  lady  ain'  got  no 
'casion  tuh  'hide  tuh  a  gentleman's  heels 
nuthah;  dey  has  tuh  have  'em,  of  co'se, 
but  yo'  ain'  got  no  call  tuh  speak  'bout 
'em." 

"I  'membahs  him,"  said  Lavinia 
again  in  evident  retrospect,  "wid  he  bow 
laigs  an'  he  fat  stummick;  laws-a- 
mussy!  I  'membahs  him." 

"Yo'  didn'  ketch  dem  virgins  talkin' 
dat  a-way  'bout  de  bridegroom,"  said 
Mrs.  Simmons  reprovingly,  and  Lavinia 
became  suddenly  silent. 

"Yo'  got  tuh  walk  dat  cakewalk,"  re 
marked  her  mother  decidedly,  "an'  yo' 
got  tuh  step  out  yo'  spryes'.  'Liza 
Gibbs  an'  Sally  Finney  an'  all  de 
gals  gwine  tuh  be  dah,  same  ez  de  vir 
gins  of  ole.  Who  yo'  gwine  tuh  walk 
wid!" 

238 


A    VERY    WISE    VIRGIN 

"  James  Pollahd  done  'low  he  gwine 
tub  ax  me  when  de  nex'  Cakewalk  wuh 
called, "  said  Lavinia  tentatively. 

"He  a  mighty  no- 'count  niggah,  but 
he  do  walk  pow'ful  spry  an'  he  know 
jes'  how  tuh  shake  an'  bend  he  laigs  fV 
sho ',"  said  Mrs.  Simmons,  adding  some 
what  irrelevantly,  "Brothah  Hyatt  am 
gwine  tuh  drap  in  some  night  an'  wras'le 
wid  yo'  'bout  cakewalkin'  an'  sich." 

"Den  whut  I  gwine  tuh  do  'bout  it!" 
inquired  Lavinia  nervously. 

"  Laws-a-mussy ! "  said  her  mother 
impatiently,  "ain'  yo'  got  no  sense? 
Yo's  gwine  tuh  snuffle  an'  wipe  yo'  eyes 
frequent  when  Brothah  Hyatt  zorts,  an' 
up  an'  tell  him  dat  yo's  ready  tuh  give 
up  all  sich  wicked  ackshuns  'caze  he 
axed  yo'  to.  An'  yo's  got  tuh  say,  kine 
o'  low-voiced  an'  teary,  'Pray  fuh  me, 
Brothah  Hyatt,  pray  fuh  me,'  or  some 
sich  wo'ds." 

239 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Whut  den,"  asked  Lavinia,  much  in 
terested. 

"Well,"  returned  her  mother,  with  a 
deep  chuckle,  "when  Brothah  Hyatt  am 
down  on  he  knees  prayin'  fuh  yo',  yo' 
kin  be  on  yo'  own  two  feet  treadin'  de 
Cakewalk  fuh  Mistah  Smith." 

Lavinia  laughed  and  clapped  her 
hands  delightedly. 

"But  ef  Mistah  Smith  don'  s'lect 
yo',"  continued  Mrs.  Simmons  warn- 
ingly,  "yo's  got  tuh  light  out  tuh 
Brothah  Hyatt's  house  nex'  day  an'  up 
an'  tell  him  dat  yo'  kain'  'zist  ole  Satan 
nohow  'thout  he  be  by  yo'  side  tuh  sup- 
poht  yo'.  Dat's  de  way  tuh  fotch  a  man 
like  him." 

Mrs.  Simmons  now  produced  a  lantern 
and  trimmed  the  wick  carefully.  La 
vinia  watched  her  with  interest. 

"Git  de  coal-ile,"  she  commanded  her 
daughter,  "an  fill  it  chuck  full." 

240 


A    VERY    WISE    VIBGIN 

And  Lavinia  obeyed,  wondering 
greatly. 

"On  de  night  o'  de  cakewalk,"  volun 
teered  Mrs.  Simmons,  "yo's  gwine  tub 
light  yo'  lamp  an'  staht  fo'  Poht  Penn; 
yo's  gwine  tub  lingah  on  de  road  twell 
yo'  sees  Mistah  Smith's  yallah  meule 
an'  he  no-top  buggy  comin'  to'ds  yo." 

"Whut  den?"  said  Lavinia  breath 
lessly. 

"Den,"  said  her  mother  quietly,  "ef 
yo's  got  any  sense,  yo's  gwine  tub  ride 
de  res '  o '  de  way  side  o '  Mistah  Smith  in 
he  no-top  buggy." 

Kerosene  oil  was  in  great  demand  in 
Poketown  on  the  morning  of  the  cake- 
walk.  Lavinia  had  imparted  her 
mother's  plan  to  her  chosen  friend,  Wil- 
helmina  Stafford,  and  it  had  accord 
ingly  been  transmitted  from  one  to 
another  until  all  the  chaperones  of  Poke- 
town  were  in  the  market  for  oil,  feeling 
16  241 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

it  best  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  to 
insure  success;  and  m'any  a  reluctant 
virgin  was  therefore  started  off  on  foot, 
accompanied  only  by  her  lantern,  in  the 
direction  of  Port  Penn. 

Mr.  William  Smith  stood  before  his 
mirror  and  put  the  finishing-touch  to  his 
toilet  in  the  shape  of  a  paste  solitaire 
about  the  size  of  a  marble.  Mr.  Smith 
fastened  it  carefully  in  his  red  cravat 
and  retreated  a  few  paces  to  note  the 
effect.  Evidently  it  was  satisfactory, 
for  he  smiled  broadly,  as  though  content. 
He  then  drew  from  his  pocket  a  ring 
with  a  setting  the  size  of  his  scarf-pin 
and  looked  at  it  affectionately. 

"Hit  do  seem  like  a  pity  tuh  was'e  it 
on  some  triflin'  yallah  gal,"  he  solilo 
quized  as  he  returned  it  to  its  resting- 
place. 

Evidently  Mr.  Smith  was  not  a  cheer 
ful  giver. 

242 


A    VERY    WISE    VIEGIN 

"Beckon  I's  gwine  tuh  be  mighty 
sorry  fuh  dis  hyah  night's  wuck,"  he 
muttered  as  he  unhitched  his  yellow 
mule,  "but  de  Scriptuh  say  'tain'  good 
fuh  man  tuh  live  alone,  an'  I  done  cal- 
c'late  dat  hit  gwine  tuh  be  cheapah  tuh 
suppoht  a  wife  den  tuh  put  meh  woshin' 
out." 

So  saying  Mr.  Smith  drove  off  in  the 
direction  of  Port  Penn. 

Brother  Noah  Hyatt  had  been  to  see 
Lavinia,  according  to  promise.  He  had 
admonished  sternly,  warned  gravely, 
pleaded  ardently,  and  finally  persuaded 
gently.  Brother  Hyatt  was  naturally  as 
unsociable  as  Diogenes,  but  he  was 
human.  Lavinia  was  soft  of  voice  and 
slight  of  form,  with  eyes  not  unlike  the 
young  gazelle,  to  whom  her  mother  so 
often  referred.  She  was  open  to  convic 
tion  and  overcome  with  remorse  at  her 
243 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

sins  of  omission  and  commission;  she 
had  wept  copiously  and  promised  amend 
ment  ;  and  finally  had  confessed  that  she 
doubted  her  ability  to  keep  to  the 
straight  and  narrow  way  without  the 
assistance  of  Brother  Hyatt  to  guide  her 
wandering  footsteps.  Verily  Lavinia 
had  lights  trimmed  and  burning  in  sev 
eral  directions,  and  was  a  very  wise 
virgin  indeed. 

Brother  Hyatt  became  deeply  inter 
ested.  Here,  it  seemed  to  him,  was  a 
brand  well  worth  snatching  from  the 
burning.  It  would  not  be  unpleasant, 
he  reflected  as  he  washed  his  supper- 
dishes,  to  have  such  duties  performed  by 
a  swiftly  moving,  trim-waisted  young 
wife.  He  thought  of  the  brand  smoul 
dering  in  the  cinders  of  worldliness, 
sighed,  shook  his  head  and  his  dish-cloth 
simultaneously,  and  decided  to  snatch. 

His  evening  chores  completed,  Mr. 
244 


A    VERY    WISE    VIRGIN 

Hyatt  repaired  to  the  Simmons  home 
stead  and  knocked  as  one  having  author 
ity.  There  was  no  response.  Again  he 
knocked,  and  the  window  of  the  adjoin 
ing  house  was  raised  cautiously. 

"Dey  ain'  nobody  home,"  said  a  voice 
from  within,  "dey's  all  done  gone  tuh 
de  cakewalk. " 

Brother  Hyatt  set  his  teeth  and 
squared  his  shoulders. 

"Fs  gwine  aftah  huh/'  he  muttered; 
"Fs  gwine  tuh  bring  de  lamb  safe  tuh 
defole." 

And  with  this  pious  declaration  on  his 
lips  and  bitter  resentment  in  his  heart 
at  the  duplicity  of  the  lamb,  Brother. 
Hyatt  started  forth  in  the  direction  of 
Port  Penn. 

The  first  notes  of  the  brass  band,  im 
ported  from  New  Castle  for  the  occa 
sion,  were  wafted  upon  the  night  air  as 
245 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Lavinia  drove  into  Port  Penn  seated 
beside  Mr.  William  Smith  in  his  blue- 
wheeled  buggy.  It  happened  thus. 

Mr.  Smith,  driving  slowly  along,  found 
his  progress  impeded  by  a  female  figure 
which  stood  in  the  road  and  waved  a 
lantern  under  the  very  nose  of  the  yel 
low  mule. 

"Who  dat?"  called  the  gentleman  im 
patiently. 

"  Ef  yo '  please,  suh, ' '  said  a  soft  voice 
in  reply,  "I's  done  los'  meh  way.  Kin 
yo'  tell  me  how  tuh  git  tuh  Poht  Penn?" 

After  a  little  more  conversation,  dur 
ing  which  the  lady  several  times  men 
tioned  how  tired  she  was,  Mr.  Smith 
proffered  the  half  of  his  buggy,  and,  in 
cidentally,  enjoyed  the  remainder  of  the 
drive  very  much. 

"Whut  all  dem  gals  streakin'  'long 
by  deyse'f  fuh,  wid  lantahns  tuhned  up 
so  high  dey  jes'  pointedly  smokin'?"  in- 
246 


A    VERY    WISE    VIRGIN 

quired  Mr.  Smith  as  they  passed  one 
virgin  after  another,  weary  and  foot 
sore,  but  persevering. 

"Dunno,"  replied  Lavinia  innocently 
as  she  passed  her  friends  with  no  sign 
of  recognition. 

The  cakewalk  was  a  success.  Never 
were  girls  so  light  of  foot  and  coquettish 
of  manner;  one  couple  after  another 
pirouetted  down  the  long  room,  pos 
turing,  bowing,  and  executing  intricate 
and  difficult  steps  to  the  strains  of  the 
"Georgia  Camp  Meeting."  There  is 
something  in  this  tune  which  affects  the 
feet  and  makes  them  dance,  willy-nilly; 
even  the  spectators  beat  time,  and  Mr. 
William  Smith — he  of  the  long  heels — 
shuffled  his  feet  noisily  upon  the  judges ' 
platform. 

At  the  end  of  the  front  row  of  spec 
tators  sat  Mrs.  Simmons,  her  fat  face 
247 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

shining  with  excitement  and  pleasure. 
Owing  to  an  excess  of  avoirdupois,  it 
had  been  many  a  year  since  she  had  par 
ticipated  actively  in  a  cakewalk,  but  she 
beat  time  vigorously  and  yearned  to  be 
up  and  doing  most  ardently. 

Just  within  the  open  door,  unnoticed 
and  alone,  stood  Brother  Noah  Hyatt, 
like  a  skeleton  at  a  feast.  He  pushed 
his  rusty  silk  hat  well  down  on  his  head 
and  glowered  severely  at  the  company 
as  he  waited  for  the  appearance  of  his 
particular  lamb ;  he  meant  to  rescue  her 
before  her  feet  executed  any  sinful  trip 
ping,  and  after  that  to  address  the  as 
semblage  generally.  Brother  Hyatt 
thought  he  could  make  some  remarks 
which  would  be  long  remembered,  and 
took  a  gloomy  pleasure  in  his  opportu 
nity  to  note  the  faces  of  professing 
church  members,  now  apparently  given 
over  to  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil. 

248 


A    VERY    WISE    VIRGIN 

The  room  grew  very  hot,  and  the  band 
played  on  with  redoubled  energy. 
Brother  Hyatt  mopped  his  brow  and 
shuffled  his  feet  uneasily.  He  wished 
Lavinia  would  appear. 

Mr.  Smith  held  on  to  the  large,  iced 
cake,  and  looked  carefully  for  the  com 
panion  of  his  drive.  The  airs  and  graces 
of  the  other  girls  were  lost  upon  him  and 
the  magnificence  of  their  toilets  wasted. 

At  last  James  Pollard  and  Lavinia 
stepped  into  position  and  saluted  each 
other.  She  was  dressed  in  the  very  best 
clothes  her  mother  could  collect  from 
the  washes  of  various  surrounding 
families,  and  many  young  ladies,  had 
they  been  present,  might  have  recognized 
here  a  lace  flounced  petticoat,  there  a 
pair  of  red  silk  stockings  and  an  organdy 
dress;  over  her  shoulder  she  balanced 
a  white  lace  parasol,  and  only  Mrs.  Sim 
mons  knew  from  whence  it  came.  James 
249 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

was  resplendent,  with  the  inevitable  silk 
hat  and  walking-stick  adorned  with  rib 
bons. 

Lavinia  swayed  her  supple  figure  to 
and  fro  in  time  to  the  music  and  took  a 
few  steps  forward,  her  head  held  coquet- 
tishly  on  one  side.  She  looked  extremely 
well,  and  Mrs.  Simmons  beamed  with 
satisfaction. 

The  music  grew  yet  more  rollicking 
and  inspiring,  and  the  room  became 
hotter.  Brother  Hyatt  felt  a  film  cross 
his  eyes  and  could  no  longer  distinguish 
faces ;  his  body  swayed  with  the  rhythm 
of  the  tune  and  his  feet  moved  involun 
tarily.  Brother  Hyatt  had  once  been 
young. 

Mrs.  Simmons,  dizzy  and  excited,  had 
risen  to  her  feet  to  watch  the  progress 
of  her  daughter.  As  Lavinia  Js  slight 
young  form  swayed  from  side  to  side  or 
bent  far  backward  the  corpulent  figure 
250 


A    VEEY    WISE    VIRGIN 

of  her  mother  did  the  same,  and  the 
heavily  shod  feet  of  the  elder  woman 
took  as  many  and  as  dainty  steps  as  did 
the  slippered  extremities  of  her  daugh 
ter. 

Faster  and  faster  played  the  band; 
swiftly,  and  yet  more  swiftly,  moved  the 
respectable  feet  of  Brother  Hyatt.  He 
shut  his  eyes  and  let  them  carry  him 
where  they  would ;  he  had  no  longer  any 
will  or  volition  of  his  own.  Beaching 
the  centre  of  the  room,  he  became  con 
scious  he  had  no  partner  and  sought  to 
remedy  this  defect.  He  looked  a  second 
time  and  realized  that  a  stout  female 
figure  was  posturing  opposite  to  him. 
Brother  Hyatt  felt  no  surprise.  He  held 
out  his  hand,  and  together  they  exe 
cuted  the  figure  which  requires  very  high 
stepping,  with  the  body  bent  backward 
as  far  as  it  will  go.  The  spectators  no 
longer  looked  at  Lavinia  and  James  Pol- 
251 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

lard.  Mrs.  Simmons  knew  how  to  cake- 
walk  ;  she  reached  forward  and  removed 
Mr.  Hyatt's  silk  hat,  placing  it  upon  her 
own  head,  and  with  arms  akimbo  danced 
lightly  around  him;  he  took  several 
rapid  steps,  and,  whirling  round  in  front 
of  her,  fell  upon  one  knee.  Promptly  the 
lady  responded  to  the  challenge  by 
placing  her  foot  upon  his  lap  and  gazing 
loftily  towards  the  ceiling  as  he  tied  her 
shoe;  then  they  again  went  forward, 
hand  in  hand,  in  perfect  time.  Verily, 
the  "Georgia  Camp  Meeting "  was  re 
sponsible  for  much. 

The  band  broke  into  the  grand  march, 
and  Mrs.  Simmons  and  Mr.  Hyatt  took 
their  places  to  parade  past  the  judges' 
stand,  utterly  unconscious  of  each 
other's  identity.  They  followed  closely 
behind  Lavinia  and  James  Pollard,  but 
the  tune  was  changed  and  the  spell 
broken.  Before  they  had  crossed  the 

252 


A    VERY    WISE     VIRGIN 

room  Mrs.  Simmons,  with  a  gasp  of 
astonishment,  had  recognized  her  part 
ner,  and  Mr.  Hyatt,  with  a  throb  of  mor 
tification,  realized  what  he  had  done. 
He  made  a  great  effort  to  rally  his  de 
parting  courage. 

Mr.  William  Smith  arose,  cake  in 
hand,  as  Lavinia  approached.  The  hour 
of  triumph  was  at  hand. 

"I  renounces  Miss  Lavinia  Simmons 
de  spryes'  walkah  in  de  room,"  he  said, 
bestowing  the  prize  upon  her  with  a  low 
bow. 

Lavinia  received  it  with  a  simper,  and 
was  about  to  retire  when  the  harsh  voice 
of  Mr.  Hyatt  fell  unpleasantly  upon  her 
ear. 

"Drap  it!"  commanded  that  gentle 
man  in  tones  of  authority;  "drap  it,  I 
say!" 

And  Lavinia,  taken  by  surprise, 
dropped  the  cake  and  her  lower  jaw 
253 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

at  the  same  moment,  much  to  the 
detriment  of  the  former.  She  had 
been  so  much  occupied  by  her  own 
performance  that  she  had  failed  to 
look  behind  and  behold  her  mother 
and  Mr.  Hyatt  in  their  triumphal 
course  down  the  room,  and  therefore 
believed  that  the  sword  of  justice  was 
indeed  about  to  descend  upon  her 
guilty  head. 

"I — I  ain'  done  nawthin,"  she  fal 
tered  miserably. 

"Chile  o'  Sin  an'  Wickedness,"  de 
nounced  Brother  Hyatt  sternly,  "huc- 
cum  yo '  in  dis  hyah  place  tuh-night  ? ' ' 

"Don'  yo'  ahgify  wid  de  lady  in  dat 
tone  o'  voice,"  said  Mr.  Smith  offi 
ciously.  He  felt  he  already  had  a  pro 
prietary  right  in  that  direction. 

"Dawtah  o'  Eve,  sistah  o'  Jezebal," 
continued  Brother  Hyatt,  addressing  the 
trembling  Lavinia,  "cousin  o'  Delilah, 
254 


A    VEEY    WISE     VIKGIN 

friend  o'  Jael,  come  wid  me.  Huccum 
yo'  hyah?" 

"Huccum  yo'  liyah  yo'se'f?"  inter 
rupted  Mrs.  Simmons,  thinking  it  time 
to  interfere;  "yo'  done  drug  me  intuh 
de  dance,  dat  whut  yo'  done.  De  sin  be 
on  yo'  haid.  Yo'  up  an'  make  me  dance, 
dat's  whut  yo'  done.  Yo's  a  double- 
faced  ole  sinnah,  Brothah  Hyatt,  dat's 
whut  yo'  is,  an'  I's  gwine  tuh  tell  de 
Session." 

" Peace,  woman,"  said  Mr.  Hyatt  ma 
jestically.  He  then  turned  to  Mr.  Smith, 
who  appeared  deeply  interested  in  the 
scene. 

" Young  man,"  he  said  warningly, 
'  '  let  'em  be.  Don '  yo '  have  nawthin '  tuh 
do  wid  'em.  Dey  'ceives  yo',  an'  dey 
timpts  yo',  an'  dey  'tices  yo'.  Yo'  see 
how  dis  ole  woman  cas'  a  spell  ovah  me 
wid  huh  wicked  ways.  I  done  come  hyar 
tuh  save  huh  dawtah  f 'om  hell  an'  dam- 
255 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

nation.  She  am'  wuth  savin*.  Let  huh 
go." 

Mr.  Smith  began  to  weaken  in  his  alle 
giance. 

"I  am'  noways  anxious  tuh  git  ma'ied 
nohow, "  he  said  slowly. 

"De  fall  o'  man,"  said  Mr.  Hyatt, 
"am  due  to  woman.  She  hel'  out  de 
aipple  an'  he  tuck  it  an'  bit  it.  Hit  tuhn 
tuh  ashes  in  he  mouf.  I's  a  membah 
o'  de  Session,  an'  'caze  o'  a  woman  an' 
de  spell  she  tuk  an'  cas'  I  up  an'  back 
slid  like  yo'  seen  dis  night.  Dey  am'  no 
tellin'  whut  dat  gal  gwine  tuh  do  tuh 
yo'." 

The  crowd  pressed  closer  around 
them,  not  wishing  to  lose  a  word  of  the 
discourse. 

"Ef  yo'  takes  huh  to  yo'  house,"  con 
tinued  Brother  Hyatt,  with  hand  raised 
as  though  in  exhortation,  "whut  she 
gwine  tuh  do?  She  gwine  tuh  set  in  yo' 
256 


A    VERY    WISE     VIRGIN 

pahlah  and  fade  yo'  cyahpet;  she  gwine 
tub  eat  de  bes'  paht  o'  yo'  hog  meat  an' 
leave  de  chitlins  fo'  yo;  she  gwine  tuh 
spen'  yo'  money,  y-a-a-s,  dat  whut  she 
gwine  tuh  do,  she  gwine  tuh  spen'  yo' 
money. ' ' 

"  Ef  yo 's  ready  tuh  go  back  tuh  Poke- 
town,  Mistah  Hyatt,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Smith  suddenly,  "I  kin  take  yo'  ovah  in 
men  buggy." 

And  the  two  gentlemen  departed  with 
out  a  glance  at  Lavinia,  who  occupied 
herself  in  gathering  together  the  frag 
ments  of  the  cake. 

Mrs.  Simmons  and  her  daughter 
trailed  along  the  road  in  silence;  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  to  say.  At  last  the 
older  woman  looked  behind  her.  She 
thus  broke  the  silence : 

"Whut  yo'  done  fotch  dat  cake  fun?" 
she  inquired  bitterly. 
17  257 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"I  reckon  hit  mout  come  in  handy," 
replied  Lavinia  with  a  giggle. 

"Yo'  ain'  got  nawthin'  tuh  laugh  at," 
said  her  mother  angrily;  "yo's  done  los' 
'em  bofe,  dat's  whut  yo'  done.  Yo's  a 
likely  virgin  tuh  he  sho'.  Whut  yo' 
gwine  tuh  do  now?" 

"Beckon  Fs  heen  an'  gone  an'  done 
it,"  said  Lavinia,  with  a  second  giggle. 

"Whut  yo'  mean?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Simmons,  her  curiosity  roused. 

"Well,"  said  Lavinia  quietly,  "James 
Pollahd,  he  up  an'  ask  me  tuh  ma'y  him 
las'  night  an'  I  done  so." 

"Is  yo'  ma'ied  now?"  said  Mrs.  Sim 
mons  with  a  gasp. 

Lavinia  nodded. 

"Brothah  Wiggins,  he  tuck  an'  tied 
de  knot,"  she  said  quietly.  "I  wa'n't 
noways  sho'  how  dis  hyah  night's 
wuck  gwine  tuh  tuhn  out,  so  I  done 
tell  James  ef  he  wan'  me  he  got  tuh 
258 


A    VERY    WISE     VIRGIN 

take  me  quick.     He  peaked  tuh  wan' 
me." 

"Well,"  said  her  mother,  after  a 
moment's  thought,  "he  a  mighty  po' 
runt  fo'  sho',  but  I  reckon  dem  virgins 
would  have  took  him  ef  dey  had  de 
chance." 


259 


MOSES,  JR. 

ALONZO  shifted  the  baby  to  the  other 
shoulder  and  sighed  wearily.  Some 
times  the  realities  of  life  oppress  us 
strangely. 

"Yo*  ugly,  yowlin',  black  niggah!"  he 
said  fiercely,  addressing  his  unconscious 
burden. 

Mary  Lizzie  peered  around  the  corner 
of  the  house  and  grinned  derisively.  It 
was  solely  the  result  of  good  manage 
ment  on  her  part  that  the  baby  had  been 
thrust  upon  Alonzo  instead  of  herself 
when  their  mother  went  to  her  work, 
and  she  exulted  accordingly. 

"Take  good  cyah  o'  de  baby,  'Lonzy," 
she  said  officiously;  "don'  let  nobody  git 
li'l  Mose." 

"Wunst  I  gits  shed  o'  him,"  returned 

260 


MOSES,   JE. 

Alonzo  grimly,  "I's  gwine  tub  pull  yo' 
wool  full  yo',  dat's  whut  I's  gwine  tuh 
do." 

Mary  Lizzie  stood  upon  one  bare  black 
leg  like  a  reflective  young  stork  as  sbe 
rubbed  it  affectionately  witb  tbe  sole  of 
tbe  otber  foot. 

"  'Lonzy,"  sbe  remarked  suddenly, 
11  'membab  dat  king  Miss  Hattie  done 
tole  us  'bout  las'  Sunday?" 

"Wbut  king?"  asked  Alonzo  indiffer 
ently. 

"De  one  wbut  tuck  en  kill  de  fus' 
bawns,"  returned  Mary  Lizzie. 

"He  kilt  de  babies,  dat's  wbut  be 
done,"  said  Alonzo  witb  a  sudden  glim 
mer  of  interest.  "I  reckon  yo'  means 
Mistab  Ferro." 

Mary  Lizzie  nodded. 

"Ef  dey  badn'  put  li'l  ole  Moses  out 
tub  sea,  be'd  done  been  kilt  too,"  sbe 
said  after  a  moment's  silence. 
261 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Moses  of  the  twentieth  century  set 
up  a  mighty  shout,  and  it  took  some 
minutes  for  his  brother  to  pacify 
him. 

"  'Tain'  no  use  wishin',"  said  Alonzo 
gloomily  when  peace  was  restored, 
"Mistah  Ferro  am  daid  an'  gone.  Dem 
wuz  good  ole  days." 

Mary  Lizzie  came  closer. 

"De  stujents  an'  de  night-doctahs, " 
she  whispered  apprehensively,  "dey  up 
an'  takes  babies  Pom  dey  cradles  an' 
bodies  f 'om  dey  graves.  Mammy  done 
say  so." 

"Mistah  Ferro  mus'  a-been  a  night- 
doctah  ez  well  ez  a  king,"  observed 
Alonzo,  adding  after  a  moment's 
thought,  "Mistah  Eaymon'  up  tuh  de 
house  am  a  stujent." 

"Reckon  he  mought  like  tuh  git  holt 
o'  Mose,"  responded  Mary  Lizzie,  add 
ing  unctuously,  "dey  b'iles  de  babies  in 
262 


MOSES,   JR. 

vinegah  an'  puts  'em  away  in  glass  jahs, 
same  ez  pickles." 

"How'd  yo'  like  tuh  be  b'iled  in  vine 
gah  ?"  inquired  Alonzo  of  his  infant 
brother,  with  a  slight  shake. 

"  'Lonzy,"  said  Mary  Lizzie  irrele 
vantly,  "dey's  a  place  down  by  de  rivah 
wid  a  big  tent,  an'  annymiles  runnin' 
roun'  a  ring,  an'  yo'  kin  ride  on  'em. 
Dey's  a  band  whut  plays  awful  loud  all 
de  time,  an'  peanuts  an'  sich." 

"Real  annymiles?"  said  Alonzo,  his 
eyes  growing  large. 

Mary  Lizzie  nodded  emphatically. 
Her  knowledge  of  merry-go-rounds  was 
limited,  but  she  was  equal  to  the  occa 
sion. 

"I's  gwine,"  she  remarked  tersely. 

"Me  too,"  said  Alonzo  with  equal 
firmness. 

They  exchanged  glances  of  mutual 
understanding. 

263 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"I'd  hate  tub  see  de  stujents  git  li'l 
Mose,"  said  Mary  Lizzie  after  a  long 
pause. 

"Whut  yo'  say  dey  done  tub  hide 
ole  Moses  Pom  Mistah  Ferro!"  in 
quired  Alonzo  with  interest,  and  Mary 
Lizzie  repeated  the  story  of  the  launch 
ing  of  Moses  and  his  rescue  by  Pha 
raoh's  daughter  to  the  best  of  her 
ability. 

"Does  yo'  reckon  he  gwine  tub  fit  in 
a  woshtub?"  said  Alonzo  after  ponder 
ing  deeply;  and  Mary  Lizzie  approved 
the  suggestion. 

A  washtub  was  accordingly  produced 
and  a  quilt  placed  inside  it;  the  baby 
was  then  introduced  to  his  new  quarters, 
protesting  vigorously. 

"He  legs  do  crumple  up,"  said  Mary 
Lizzie  disgustedly,  after  vainly  trying 
to  induce  her  brother  to  lie  out  straight. 

"Let  'em  crumple,"  returned  Alonzo 
264 


MOSES,   JR. 

indifferently,  "an'  he'p  me  tote  him  tub 
de  crick. " 

But  Mary  Lizzie  did  not  respond; 
womanlike,  after  suggesting  the  plan  she 
flunked  its  execution. 

"Whut  yo'  reckon  Mammy  gwine  tuh 
say?"  she  asked  nervously. 

"Does  yo'  want  yo'  li'l  brothah  b'iled 
in  vinegah?"  demanded  Alonzo  fiercely. 
"Mammy  done  tole  me  tuh  take  cyah  o' 
dis  chile  an'  I's  gwine  tuh  do  hit.  Take 
holt  o'  de  han'le  o'  de  tub." 

"S'pos'n  dey  don'  happen  tuh  be  no 
Ferro's  dawtah  tuh  ketch  holt  an'  pull 
him  out,"  suggested  Mary  Lizzie  after 
they  had  trudged  some  distance  in 
silence,  "whut  Mose  gwine  tuh  do  'bout 
hit?" 

"Well,"  returned  Alonzo  argumenta- 
tively,  "ain'  we  got  tuh  up  an'  hide  him 
f'om  de  stujents  somehow?" 

"Miss  Hattie  say,"  continued  Mary 
265 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

Lizzie,  endeavoring  to  appease  her  ac 
cusing  conscience,  "dat  ole  Moses  done 
been  kilt  sho'  ef  dey  hadn*  tuck  an*  hid 
him." 

"Miss  Hattie  allus  know  whut  she 
talkin'  'bout,"  said  Alonzo  conclusively, 
adding  after  a  moment's  thought,  "she 
gwine  tuh  be  awful  pleased  'caze  we 
'membahs  whut  she  say  in  Sunday- 
school.  ' ' 

And  Mary  Lizzie  smiled — a  long,  slow 
smile. 

The  edge  of  the  creek  was  reached  at 
last,  and  they  paused  to  rest.  Soothed 
by  the  motion  of  his  improvised  cradle 
as  it  swung  along,  the  baby  had  fallen 
asleep,  and  therefore  failed  to  object  as 
Alonzo  waded  out  into  the  stream,  push 
ing  the  tub  before  him.  Mary  Lizzie 
offered  a  last  remonstrance. 

"  'Lonzy,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "whut 
yo'  gwine  tuh  do  'bout  de  bull?" 
266 


MOSES,  JE. 

"De  wliut?"  asked  Alonzo,  aston 
ished. 

"De  bull  whut  rushes,"  returned 
Mary  Lizzie  firmly.  "Miss  Hattie  done 
make  'speshul  mention  'bout  him. 
Beckon  hit  wuh  'caze  o'  de  bull  rushes 
dat  Mistah  Ferro's  dawtah  happen  tuh 
light  on  de  aidge  o'  de  watah;  spec  he 
tuck  an'  butt  huh.  Dey  am'  gwine  tuh 
be  nobody  haul  li'l  Mose  out  nohow  twell 
de  bull  rushes." 

"Mistah  Brown's  ole  raid  bull  wid  de 
curly  forrid  am  down  hyah  by  de  crick," 
said  Alonzo,  pushing  vigorously; 
"reckon  I  kin  make  him  rush  mighty 
lively  wunst  I  gits  Mose  tuh  floatin'. 
Gimme  dat  long  stick  so's  I  kin  push 
him  out  tuh  de  middle." 

The  tub  finally  reached  the  centre  of 
the    stream,    and    unconscious    Moses 
floated  peacefully  along  with  the  cur 
rent,  oblivious  of  his  surroundings. 
267 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Mr.  Brown's  red  bull  was  quietly 
cropping  the  tender  young  grass  in  his 
pasture  bordering  the  creek.  He  felt  at 
peace  with  the  world  in  general,  and  only 
the  large  brass  ring  which  adorned  his 
nose  suggested  what  he  could  do  if  he 
felt  so  inclined.  Far  away  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  water  a  huge  yellow  umbrella 
sheltered  a  man  and  an  easel;  it  also 
shaded  a  girl  in  a  white  gown.  The  bull 
had  glanced  in  that  direction  once  or 
twice,  but  the  umbrella  did  not  interest 
him;  he  supposed  it  was  merely  a  new 
species  of  mushroom. 

A  shower  of  small  stones  and  bits  of 
earth  suddenly  descended  upon  his  back, 
and  he  switched  his  tail  impatiently  as 
he  grazed;  the  shower  increased,  and 
he  raised  his  head  deliberately.  Dancing 
excitedly  about  him,  now  on  this  side, 
now  on  that,  was  a  small  black  figure 
emitting  shrill  cries  and  waving  a  tat- 
268 


MOSES,   JR. 

tered  straw  hat  in  a  most  exasperating 
manner ;  perched  on  the  fence,  in  readi 
ness  for  instant  flight  in  either  direc 
tion,  was  a  second  dusky  atom  intent  on 
continuing  the  fusillade  from  the  rear. 
The  bull  was  evidently  annoyed. 

A  large  clod  of  earth  struck  him 
directly  between  the  eyes,  and  he  charged 
impatiently  at  his  tormentor,  who 
promptly  vanished  from  the  horizon. 
There  was  nothing  to  conceal  him,  so  far 
as  the  bull  could  detect,  but  the  yellow 
umbrella  on  the  edge  of  the  creek,  so  he 
made  for  it  at  full  speed,  with  lowered 
head  and  elevated  tail. 

"  There  is  nothing  so  beautiful  as 
Nature,"  said  the  artist  under  the  um 
brella,  addressing  the  girl  in  the  white 
gown. 

The  girl,  known  in  Poketown  as  ' '  Miss 
Hattie,"  acquiesced. 
269 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"So  quiet,"  he  continued,  "so  peace 
ful.  This  small  stream  now,  with  cattle 
browsing  so  happily  upon  its  banks  and 
that  quaint  little  boat  in  the  distance,  is 
a  picture  in  itself. " 

"That's  not  a  boat,"  said  Miss  Hat- 
tie  quietly,  "it's  a  tub." 

"I  always  feel  elevated  and  strength 
ened,"  he  continued,  disregarding  her 
remark,  "after  a  morning  spent  in  close 
communion  with  Nature.  To  the  edu 
cated  eye  there  is  so  much  to  admire  in 
the  smallest  leaf.  Even  the  little 
clouds " 

He  paused  abruptly. 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Hattie,  "what  of 
the  little  clouds?" 

"I  thought  I  heard  something.  As  I 
was  saying,  even  the  little  clouds  have 
a  significance  of  their  own.  In  the  water 
beside  us  I  find " 

There  was  a  sudden  thunder  of  hoofs, 
270 


MOSES,   JR. 

accompanied  by  an  angry  bellow ;  some 
thing  crashed  through  the  yellow  um 
brella  and  raised  both  artist  and  easel 
high  in  the  air.  They  fell  with  a  mighty 
splash  into  the  creek,  and  Miss  Hattie 
shrank  back  terrified  as  Mr.  Brown's 
red  bull  rushed  past  without  seeing  her 
and  jumped  the  fence  into  the  next  field. 
Gasping  and  spluttering,  the  artist 
rose  to  the  surface  and  caught  blindly 
at  the  first  object  which  presented  itself. 
It  proved  to  be  the  edge  of  the  tub  in 
which  Moses,  Jr.,  pursued  the  even  tenor 
of  his  way  down  the  creek,  and  which 
naturally  capsized  immediately.  Down 
went  the  unlucky  artist  a  second  time, 
and  when  he  again  appeared  he  mechani 
cally  clasped  beneath  his  arm  a  small, 
soft  bundle  which  squirmed  unpleas 
antly.  As  Miss  Hattie  timidly  peered 
around  the  trunk  of  a  large  tree,  whither 
she  had  fled  for  shelter,  the  head  and 
271 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

shoulders  of  her  companion  arose  over 
the  edge  of  the  bank.  He  presented  a 
very  melancholy  spectacle  as  he  crawled 
slowly  to  terra  firma  with  water  drip 
ping  from  his  garments,  his  hair,  and 
even  from  his  eminently  correct  Van 
Dyke  beard.  Advancing  with  as  much 
dignity  as  he  could  command,  he  laid 
his  burden  at  her  feet,  while  Moses, 
having  recovered  his  breath,  set  up  a 
sudden  howl  of  indignation  at  the  abrupt 
termination  of  his  nap. 

"It's    a    baby,"    said    Miss    Hattie 
slowly,  "a  colored  baby.    Oh  dear  me/" 

The  corners  of  her  mouth  twitched 
convulsively,  and  after  striving  vainly 
at  self-control,  she  finally  laughed 
frankly  and  unrestrainedly  in  opposi 
tion  to  the  wails  of  the  outraged  Moses. 

"I  am  glad  you  think  it  funny,"  said 
the  artist  stiffly  as  he  endeavored  to  dry 
his  face  with  his  soaking  handkerchief. 
272 


MOSES,   JR. 

Miss  Hattie  assumed  a  sympathetic 
expression  and  approached  the  baby 
curiously. 

"Why,  it's  Moses, "  she  exclaimed, 
astonished — "little  Moses.  We  must 
take  him  home,  of  course." 

She  looked  at  her  own  fresh,  spotless 
costume,  and  then  at  the  drenched  in 
fant. 

"If  I  go  ahead  and  show  the  way,'' 
she  insinuated,  "you  will  carry  him, 
won't  you?" 

"Not  I,"  he  returned  briefly. 

"But,"  she  argued,  "think  of  my 
gown.  You  are  already  wet,  you  know, 
and  no  one  will  see  us  if  we  go  through 
the  fields.  Would  you  leave  a  little, 
helpless  child  at  the  mercy  of  a  raging 
bull?" 

"I  see  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the 
— the  animal  will  return,"  responded  the 
artist  indifferently.  "The  child  might 
18  273 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

repose  in  safety  behind  this  bush  and 
we   could  notify   its   parents   where   it 


is." 


"You  have  a  hard,  cruel  nature,"  said 
Miss  Hattie  severely.  "I  always  sus 
pected  it.  Unless  you  do  me  this  slight 
favor  (the  first  I  have  ever  asked  of 
you),  I" — she  paused  to  consider — "I 
will  never  speak  to  you  again." 

"I  will  do  it,"  said  the  artist  slowly, 
1  i  on  condition  that  you  grant  me  a  favor 
in  return  when  I  ask  it. ' ' 

He  approached  the  suffering  Moses 
and  picked  him  up  by  the  middle  of  his 
garments,  as  one  would  lift  a  kitten  by 
the  skin  of  its  neck. 

"Not  that  way,"  said  Miss  Hattie, 
hastily  readjusting  Moses,  "you  will  kill 
the  child.  Don't  you  know  how  to  hold 
a  baby?  Crook  out  your  arm — so." 

"I  do  not  wish  the  little  insect  so 
close  to  me,"  he  remonstrated,  looking 
274 


MOSES,   JE. 

at   his   burden   with   disgust   in   every 
feature. 

"Now,"  said  Miss  Hattie,  starting 
briskly  forward,  "I'll  go  ahead  and 
show  the  way.  You  needn't  walk  too 
close;  I  want  to  keep  my  dress  clean. 
Hurry,  please;  he  is  so  awfully  wet  I'm 
afraid  he  will  take  cold." 

"I  am  wet  also,"  said  her  companion, 
voicing  a  self-evident  fact. 

"Yes,"  she  returned  callously,  "but 
you're  a  man,  and  you're  going  to  exer 
cise.  Come  on  now.  Be  quick ! ' ' 

The  artist  obediently  moved  forward 
like  an  automaton,  and  Moses,  fearful 
of  further  disasters,  squared  his  mouth 
for  a  last  heart-rending  howl.  Miss 
Hattie  looked  over  her  shoulder  and  the 
glance  was  too  much  for  her;  she 
laughed  until  her  strength  deserted  her, 
then  sat  down  upon  the  ground  and 
laughed  again. 

275 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"I  am  glad  I  amuse  you,"  said  the 
artist  bitterly,  indignation  in  every  line 
of  his  figure. 

"I'm  not  amused, "  said  Miss  Hattie 
hastily. 

"Neither  am  I,"  he  returned  briefly 
as  Moses  fastened  both  his  little,  mon 
key-like  hands  in  the  Van  Dyke  beard  so 
conveniently  near  and  clung  on  tena 
ciously,  his  head  flung  well  back  that  he 
might  shriek  the  louder. 

"Pray,  laugh,"  said  the  artist,  po 
litely,  vainly  trying  to  disentangle  his 
beard  from  the  clutch  of  Moses;  "don't 
stop  on  my  account." 

"I'm  not  laughing,"  replied  Miss 
Hattie  in  choked  accents.  "I  never  was 
more  serious  in  my  life." 

To  prove  this  assertion  she  imme 
diately  gave  way  to  a  fresh  paroxysm 
of  mirth. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  gasped, 
276 


MOSES,   JR. 

"but  I  do  wish  you  could  see  yourself. 
Oh  dear  me!  I'm  sorry,  but  I  can't 
help  it." 

And  when  Miss  Hattie  laughed  the 
world  laughed  with  her,  whether  it  knew 
the  joke  or  not. 

Alonzo  and  Mary  Lizzie  from  their 
ambush  behind  the  fence  watched  the 
progress  of  the  bull  towards  the  yellow 
umbrella,  and  the  subsequent  demolition 
of  the  latter,  with  an  unholy  pleasure. 
As  Miss  Hattie  fled  to  the  protecting 
tree  Mary  Lizzie  sighted  the  flutter  of 
her  white  gown. 

"Look,  'Lonzy,"  she  exclaimed,  "yon- 
dah's  Ferro's  dawtah  tuh  feesh  out  lil 
Mose.  She  done  come  up  outen  de 
groun'  when  de  bull  tuck  an'  rushed." 

But  Alonzo  did  not  reply  immediately. 
He  could  see  the  head  and  shoulders  of 
a  man  rising  over  the  bank  and  he  felt 

277 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

apprehensive.    The  man  seemed  to  carry 
a  bundle. 

' '  Hide  yo'se'f,"  he  said  suddenly, 
drawing  his  sister  behind  the  post  as  a 
familiar  wail  sounded  faintly  in  the  dis 
tance.  The  children  looked  at  each 
other  with  large,  round  eyes. 

"De  night-doctah  done  got  li'l  Mose," 
whispered  Alonzo;  "I  seen  him  come 
outen  de  watah." 

"Beckon  hit  mought  a-been  Ferro's 
dawtah,"  suggested  Mary  Lizzie  hope 
fully. 

"Do  Ferro's  dawtah  w'ar  a  beard 
and  w'ite  duck  pants  ?"  demanded 
Alonzo  in  a  withering  manner,  and  Mary 
Lizzie  subsided. 

The  cries  of  Moses  became  louder  and 
more  imperative. 

"Gittin'  him  ready  fuh  de  vinegah," 
muttered     Alonzo     uneasily.       "Whut 
Mammy  gwine  tuh  say!" 
278 


MOSES,   JK. 

"Yo'  done  it,"  vociferated  Mary  Liz 
zie  shrilly, — "yo'  done  it.  Yo'  tuck  an' 
put  him  in  de  tub  yo  'se  'f .  Yo '  done  it ! " 

"Shet  yo'  noise!"  said  Alonzo 
fiercely.  "Does  yo'  want  de  night-doc- 
tahtuhgityo'?" 

"De  fus'  bawns  an'  de  boy  babies  am 
whut  Mistah  Ferro  an'  dem  othah  ole 
kings  tuck  an'  kilt,"  returned  Mary 
Lizzie  comfortably;  "de  stujents  don' 
hone  fuh  me  nohow.  I's  a  female,  I  is." 

"Whut  dat?"  inquired  Alonzo,  a  cold 
chill  creeping  up  his  spine  at  the  fate 
implied  for  his  unlucky  sex, — "whut 
dat?" 

1 '  Dunno, ' '  replied  Mary  Lizzie  briefly, 
"but  I's  one  of  'em;  Miss  Hattie  done 
say  so.  An'  I's  pow'ful  pleased  I  is," 
she  added  emphatically. 

"Le's  go  home,"  suggested  Alonzo, 
the  prospective  expedition  to  the  merry- 
go-round  forgotten  entirely;  and  they 
279 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

started  to  retrace  their  steps,  leaving 
their  infant  brother  to  his  fate  mean 
while. 

Miss  Hattie,  walking  briskly  across 
the  field  some  distance  ahead  of  her 
companion,  perceived  the  two  small  fig 
ures  headed  in  the  same  direction,  but 
keeping  close  to  the  shadow  of  the  hedge. 
She  stopped  and  pointed  them  out  to 
him,  remarking  casually  that  they  were 
relatives  of  Moses,  and  if  their  attention 
could  be  attracted  a  transfer  might  be 
effected. 

"Suppose  you  shout,"  she  suggested, 
"and  if  they  don't  hear,  you  might  run 
and  overtake  them." 

Alonzo  and  Mary  Lizzie,  trudging 
wearily  along,  lapsed  into  criminations 
and  recriminations,  after  the  manner  of 
older  criminals  when  their  sin  is  about 
to  find  them  out. 

280 


MOSES,   JE. 

"Yo'  hadn'  ought  tub  speechify  'bout 
Ferro's  dawtah  an'  sich,"  said  Alonzo 
bitterly;  "allus  stickin'  in  yo'  mouf 
somehow. ' ' 

Mary  Lizzie  clung  to  her  monotonous 
recitative. 

"Yo'  done  it,"  she  repeated  in  sing 
song  accents,  "yo'  done  it." 

"  'Tain'  so  nohow,"  repudiated 
Alonzo  forcefully. 

"Yo'  done  it,"  chanted  Mary  Lizzie 
again.  "Mammy  tole  yo'  tub  take  cyab 
o'  de  baby.  Yo'  done  it.  I's  gwine  tub 
tell  huh  how  yo'  up  an'  made  me  tote 
de  tub.  Yo'  done  it;  yo'  knows  yo' 
done  it." 

"I  knows  I's  gwine  tub  pull  yo'  wool 
clean  out,"  returned  Alonzo  viciously, 
"lain'fuhgotdat." 

"Yo'  done  it,"  began  Mary  Lizzie  for 
the  third  time,  falling  a  few  steps  in  the 
rear  of  her  brother,  "yo' " 

281 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

A  faint  shout  was  wafted  over  the 
fields;  Alonzo  turned  and  looked  in  its 
direction. 

"De  night-doctah!"  he  gasped. 

"De  co'pse  o'  po'  li'l  Mose,"  ejacu 
lated  Mary  Lizzie  as  the  body  of  her 
brother  swung  into  view. 

"Bun!"  cried  Alonzo,  "he's  gwine 
tuh  git  us." 

And  the  children  flew  blindly  in  differ 
ent  directions  as  the  artist,  bent  on  re 
linquishing  Moses,  started  towards  them 
on  the  double  quick. 

The  course  of  Mary  Lizzie  led  directly 
into  a  thicket  of  blackberry-bushes,  into 
which  she  plunged  head  first,  and  lay 
panting  on  the  ground  firmly  held  by 
thorns.  Her  pursuer  saw  a  bare  brown 
leg  waving  uncertainly  about,  and 
promptly  clutched  the  ankle-bone.  Mary 
Lizzie  groaned  aloud. 

' '  Lemme  go ! "  she  shrieked,  endeavor- 
282 


MOSES,    JR. 

ing  to  liberate  herself  by  a  series  of  des 
perate  kicks,  "lemme  go!" 

"Come  out  of  there,  you  little  devil, " 
said  the  artist  between  his  teeth,  pulling 
with  all  his  strength. 

"Leggo  meh  laig,"  wailed  Mary  Liz 
zie,  "yo*  don'  want  me.  Leggo  meh 
laig.  I  ain'  no  fus'  bawn;  I  ain'  no 
male  chile.  Leggo  meh  laig." 

The  opportune  arrival  of  Miss  Hattie 
probably  prevented  bloodshed  on  the 
part  of  the  artist,  and,  explanations 
having  ensued,  Mary  Lizzie  departed  for 
home,  her  back  bent  under  the  weight 
of  Moses,  a  burden  for  once  welcome  to 
his  sister. 

"You  see,"  said  Miss  Hattie,  "they 
thought  you  were  a  medical  student  and 
ran  away  from  you.  I  don't  just  under 
stand  myself  how  the  baby  got  into  the 
tub  and  out  on  the  creek,  but  I  thought 
it  best  not  to  ask  many  questions." 
283 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

The  artist  muttered  something  about 
infernal  nuisances. 

"I  think  it  was  so  brave  in  you,"  she 
continued,  regarding  him  through  her 
lashes  with  an  admiring  expression,  "to 
rescue  the  poor  little  child.  But  for  you 
he  would  have  been  drowned.  It  was 
positively  chivalric,  it  was  indeed,  for 
you  might  have  thought  only  of  your 
self,  you  know." 

And  the  artist  said  it  was  nothing, 
after  all. 

Mary  Lizzie  was  seated  on  the  door 
step  ostentatiously  dandling  Moses  when 
her  mother  returned.  She  told  that  in 
dignant  lady  that  Alonzo  having  de 
serted  his  charge,  she  had  gladly  taken 
the  best  of  care  of  him  all  day.  Conse 
quently,  Alonzo  upon  his  return  found 
his  welcome  unusually  warm  and  him 
self  deprived  of  the  various  tidbits  his 
284 


MOSES,    JR. 

mother  had  managed  to  collect  during 
her  day's  work  and  secrete  about  her 
person.  He  watched  Mary  Lizzie  slowly 
disposing  of  a  section  of  jam  tart  with 
bitterness  swelling  in  his  bosom. 

"  Awful  good  tahts,  dem  wuz,"  said 
Mary  Lizzie  complacently  as  the  last 
morsel  vanished. 

Alonzo  glanced  furtively  around. 
They  were  alone;  his  hour  had  come. 
He  advanced  upon  his  sister  from  the 
rear  and  fastened  both  hands  in  her  hair. 

"I  done  tole  yo'  I's  gwine  tuh  pull  yo' 
wool,"  he  said  between  his  teeth;  "now 
I's  gwine  tuh  do  it." 

And  he  took  a  good,  firm  grip  and 
pulled  mightily. 


285 


XI 

THE   BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

"DE  daid,"  asserted  Aunt  Janty 
Gibbs  solemnly,  "  con-£m-ually  do 
walk." 

"Does  dey  walk  all  tub  wunst?"  in 
quired  ber  grandson,  Gabriel  Gibbs,  a 
youtb  witb  an  unquencbable  tbirst  for 
information  on  all  subjects. 

"No,  cbile,"  returned  bis  grand- 
motber  witb  a  superior  air,  "dey  walks 
sometimes  in  twos  an'  sometimes  in 
tbrees,  but  mos  'ly  dey  walks  alone  in  de 
nigbt-time. ' ' 

"Dey's  a  time  coming  Aun'  Janty, 
wben  dey's  all  gwine  tub  walk  tub 
wunst,"  remarked  Brotber  Eli  Wiggins 
witb  conviction. 

"Wbut  yo'  'ludin'  tub,  Brotbab  Wig- 
286 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

gins,  whut  yo'  'ludin'  tub?"  asked  Aunt 
Janty  as  she  hospitably  replenished  his 
cup,  while  Gabriel  improved  the  oppor 
tunity  to  slip  unnoticed  from  the  room. 

"Dey's  a  time  comin',"  he  replied, 
pouring  the  steaming  tea  into  his  sau 
cer,  "when  ole  Gabriel  am  gwine  tub 
soun'  de  note  on  he  hawn  good  an'  loud. 
Den  de  graves  am  gwine  tub  bus'  open 
an'  de  daid  come  fo'th  tub  walk  up  an* 
down  in  de  worP,  tub  an'  fro  in  bit. 
Y-a-a-s,  Aun'  Janty,  dat's  so." 

Brother  Wiggins  paused  and  looked 
solemnly  at  his  hostess. 

"Aun'  Janty,"  he  said,  his  voice  sink 
ing  to  a  sepulchral  whisper,  "dat  time 
ain'  so  fuh  off  ez  mos'  folks  b'lieves." 

Aunt  Janty  paused,  teapot  uplifted, 
and  looked  at  her  visitor. 

"Whut  yo'  mean,  Brothah  Wiggins?" 
she  whispered  in  return,  glancing  appre 
hensively  about  her. 
287 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"One  night,"  resumed  Brother  Wig 
gins  impressively,  "I  up  an'  dream  a 
dream;  y-a-a-s,  Ann'  Janty,  dat's  whut 
I  done,  same  ez  de  wise  men  of  ole.  I 
hyah  de  trumpet  soun'  de  las'  trump, 
an'  I  seen  de  daid  come  tumblin'  outen 
dey  graves." 

"Laws!"  ejaculated  Aunt  Janty. 

"I  done  dream  de  same  dream  three 
nights,"  continued  Brother  Wiggins, 
"an'  den  I  hyah  a  Voice;  hit  done  tell 
me  de  time  am  come  fuh  de  eend  o'  de 
worl',  an'  hit  done  significate  de  night 
ole  Gabriel  gwine  tuh  blow  he  hawn." 

Brother  Wiggins  paused  to  note  the 
effect  of  his  words. 

"Aun'  Janty,"  he  said  dramatically, 
"dis  am  de  night." 

"Is  yo'  sho',  Brothah  Wiggins,  is  yo' 
sho'?"  questioned  Aunt  Janty  in  awe 
struck  tones. 

Mr.  Wiggins  nodded. 
288 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

"Fs  gwine  tuh  tell  de  Faithful  'bout 
hit  at  de  sperience  meetin'  tub-night," 
he  responded,  "an'  I's  gwine  tuh  tell 
de  sinnahs  'tain*  no  use  tuh  lay  low 
nohow,  'caze  ole  Satan  he  know  whuh 
tuh  look.  Yo'  ain'  got  no  call  tuh  be 
skeert,  Aun'  Janty,  yo'  ain'.  Jes'  keep 
close  tuh  me  when  de  time  draws  nigh, 
an'  yo'  kin  slip  in  undah  de  tails  o'  my 
coat.  I  thinks  too  much  of  yo',  Aun' 
Janty,  tuh  let  yo'  try  hit  by  yo'se'f, 
dat's  whut  I  does." 

Aunt  Janty  looked  much  worried  as 
her  visitor  departed,  and  made  ready  to 
follow  him  to  the  church  of  Little  Bethel 
in  a  very  perturbed  state  of  mind.  So 
troubled,  indeed,  was  she  that  she  en 
tirely  forgot  her  grandson,  leaving  him 
to  take  his  chances  for  weal  or  woe  alone 
and  unprotected;  she  also  overlooked 
the  fact  that  her  ancient  father  remained 
dozing  in  his  armchair  with  only  the 
19  289 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

shelter  of  a  patchwork  quilt  to  screen 
him  from  the  eye  of  the  Recording 
Angel. 

"Wisht  I  knowed  whuthah  tuh  b'lieve 
him  er  not,"  she  ejaculated,  her  hand 
on  the  latch  of  Little  Bethel. 

Now  Gabriel  Gibhs,  when  he  left  the 
house  of  his  grandmother,  repaired  to 
a  neighboring  woodpile  and,  putting  two 
fingers  in  his  mouth,  whistled  shrilly 
three  times.  In  prompt  response  to  the 
signal  sooty  urchins  of  all  sizes  stole 
quietly  one  by  one  from  the  surrounding 
houses  and  assembled  at  the  rendez 
vous.  Gabriel  eyed  them  severely. 

"Is  yo'  gwine  tuh  play  Injun  in  dem 
clo'es?"  he  inquired  sarcastically. 

His  followers  intimated  that  they  had 
no  others. 

"Git  sheets, "  commanded  the  leader, 
"an'  wrop  'em  roun'  yo'  bodies,  an' 
290 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

take  hatchets,  er  somethin',  in  yo' 
han's." 

"Whut  yo'  gwine  tuh  wrop  roun'  yo' 
own  body?"  demanded  Alonzo  Burris  in 
return. 

"Go  git  yo'  sheets,"  replied  Gabriel 
loftily,  "an'  wotch  fuh  me  tuh  come 
outen  de  back  do'.  I's  de  Chief,  I  is,  an' 
I  knows  how  Injuns  does." 

Gabriel  stole  quietly  back  to  the  house, 
having  observed  his  grandmother  depart 
for  church,  and  softly  approaching  his 
slumbering  ancestor  removed  the  patch 
work  quilt  from  his  aged  legs.  It  was 
an  easy  matter  to  pluck  from  Aunt 
Janty's  turkey-tail  fan  its  longest 
feathers  and  place  them  in  his  own  hair, 
also  to  take  possession  of  the  tin  dinner- 
horn  which  hung  behind  the  kitchen 
door.  A  can  of  red  paint  stood  in  the 
wash-shed,  and  he  liberally  daubed  it 
upon  his  round,  ebony  countenance  with 
291 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

surprising  results,  and  then  rejoined 
his  followers  enveloped  in  the  aforesaid 
quilt. 

"Now,"  said  Gabriel  to  the  ghostly 
band  of  white-draped  Indians,  "we's 
gwine  tuh  lay  down  in  de  hay-fieP  behin' 
de  graveyahd  an'  wait  twell  de  time 
come  tuh  set  de  bresh-heap  on  fiah. 
'Lonzy  Burris,  whut  yo'  doin'  wid  dat 
laddah-f" 

Alonzo  shifted  his  burden  to  the  other 
shoulder  but  declined  to  reply,  and 
Isaiah  Bristow  appearing  on  the  scene 
armed  with  a  pitchfork,  the  band  of  war 
riors  proceeded  to  the  hay-field  to  camp 
there  until  it  should  be  time  to  set  fire 
to  the  brush-heap. 

Brother  Wiggins   concluded  his  im 
passioned   discourse   and   resumed   his 
seat.    He  had  spoken  for  fully  two  hours 
and,  with  hymns  and  prayers  introduced 
292 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

by  various  members  of  the  congregation, 
the  service  had  lasted  until  almost 
eleven  o'clock.  An  air  of  excitement 
pervaded  the  assembled  company  and 
they  lingered  in  the  building,  appar 
ently  unwilling  to  venture  from  beneath 
the  sheltering  roof  of  Little  Bethel. 
Brother  Noah  Hyatt  rose  to  make  a  few 
remarks : 

"Meh  brothahs  an'  meh  sistahs,"  he 
began  solemnly,  "yo'  done  hyah  whut 
Brothah  Wiggins  say.  De  eend  o'  de 
worP  am  comin'  dis  hyah  night ;  de  good 
folks  am  gwine  tuh  flap  dey  wings  in 
glory,  an'  de  bad  folks  tuh  roas'  on  de 
gridiron  o'  ole  Satan." 

"A-a-men,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Samuel 
Johnson  fervently. 

Mr.  Hyatt  looked  severely  at  the 
speaker. 

"Whut  yo'  givin'  thanks  fuh,  Mistah 
Johnsing?"  he  inquired  politely.  "Is 
293 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

yo'  sho'  whuh  yo's  gwine?  'Membah  de 
one-eyed  shoat  whut  Uncle  William  Staf- 
fo'd  los'  so  pow'ful  queeah;  'membah  de 
jimmy  John  undah  yo'  baid;  'membah  de 
fiddle  yo'  done  play  so  frequent;  an' 
'membah  dat  pack  o '  cyahds  in  de  pocket 
o'  yo7  blue  ovahalls." 

And  Brother  Johnson  shrank  back  in 
Ms  corner,  silent  and  alarmed. 

"Whuh,  oh,  whuh,  am  de  good  ole  Moses?" 

sang  Sister  Eoxy  Bristow  in  her  high 
soprano  voice. 

"  Safe  now  in  de  Promised  Land," 

immediately  responded  the  deep,  sweet 
contralto  of  Sister  Rebecca  Brown,  and 
Little  Bethel  rocked  on  its  foundations 
as  the  entire  assembly  shouted  the  re 
frain  : 

294 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

"By  an'  by  we's  gwine  tub  jine  him, 
By  an'  by  we's  gwine  tub  jine  bim, 
By  an'  by  we's  gwine  tub  jine  bim, 
Safe  now  in  de  Promised  Land." 

"Ez  de  Day  of  Jedgmint  am  so  nigh," 
resumed  Brother  Hyatt  when  he  could 
make  himself  heard,  "I  axes  yo'  ef  yo' 
all  don'  b'lieve  we  bettah  wait  de  soun' 
o'  de  trumpet  right  hyah  in  Li'l  Bethel, 
wid  song  an'  prayah?" 

"Wbub,  oh,  whuh,  am  Wres'lin'  Jacob  f" 

struck  up  Sister  Boxy  Bristow  in  reply, 
and  again  the  night-air  resounded  with 
the  refrain. 

"Come  wid  me,"  said  Brother  Wig 
gins,  leading  the  way  to  the  door  and 
beckoning  his  flock  to  follow.  "Out  in 
de  graveyahd  am  de  place  tuh  wotch  an' 
wait.  Come  wid  me." 

And  with  faltering  steps  and  appre- 
295 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

hensive  glances  his  congregation  obeyed 
him. 

Brother  Wiggins  and  his  flock  grew 
rather  silent  as  they  assembled  in  the 
churchyard  and  cast  stealthy  glances  at 
the  dark  shadows  and  patches  of  pale 
moonlight. 

"Sam'l  Johnsing,"  said  Brother 
Hyatt  at  last,  pointing  towards  the  cor 
ner  where  reposed  the  two  former  wives 
of  that  gentleman,  "behoP  Sistah  'Liza 
Johnsing  an'  Sistah  Lucy  Ann  John- 
sing;  dey's  bof  gwine  tuh  raise  up  an' 
claim  yo'  fuh  sho'.  Which  one  does  yo' 
b'long  tuh,  Brothah  Johnsing?" 

"He  b'long  tuh  me/'  said  Mrs.  John 
son  No.  3,  laying  a  convincing  hand  upon 
his  shoulder. 

"De  Lawd  on'y  knows  who  I  does 
b'long  tuh,  anyhow,"  said  the  unhappy 
Samuel,  his  knees  knocking  together 
under  him. 

296 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

"Brothah  Hyatt,"  admonished  Mr. 
Wiggins,  "am  yo'  own  life  'thout  no 
spots?  'Membah  de  yallah  meule  yo' 
done  sol'  tuh  ole  Ann*  Judy." 

And  Brother  Hyatt  became  strangely 
silent. 

"Glory,  glory,  hallelujah!"  shouted 
Sister  Boxy  Bristow  suddenly;  "gwine 
tuh  see  Fathah  Abraham  dis  hyah  night. 
Glory!" 

"Gwine  tuh  jine  de  cherrybim  an' 
pick  de  golden  hahps,"  chanted  Aunt 
Martha  Young. 

"Gwine  tuh  sing  evahlastin'ly;  ain' 
gwine  tuh  wuck  no  mo*,"  added  Sister 
Eebecca  Brown  with  evident  anticipa 
tion. 

"Aun'  Janty,"  said  Brother  Wiggins, 
"whut  yo'  studyin'  'bout,  Aun'  Janty?" 

"When  de  graves  do  open,"  said  Aunt 
Janty  abstractedly,  "den  Fs  gwine  tuh 
see  meh  yallah  gal  Mandy  ag'in." 
297 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"So  yo'  is,  Ann*  Janty,  so  yo'  is. 
Praise  de  Lawd!"  said  Brother  Wig 
gins  fervently. 

"Laws,"  returned  Aunt  Janty  regret 
fully,  "I's  mighty  sorry  I  didn'  put  on 
huh  blue  silk  frock  when  I  laid  huh  away. 
She  gwine  tuh  look  pow'ful  funny  traips- 
in'  roun'  hyah  wid  huh  shroud  tuh 
kiwah  de  front  an'  nawthin'  'tall  in  de 
back." 

"Ole  Uncle  Joe  am'  gwine  tuh  like 
hit  nohow  'caze  we  done  sent  him  tuh 
glory  dat  a-way  ef  he  run  ag'in  Brothah 
Wiggins  walkin'  de  golden  streets  in  he 
shiny  silk  hat  an'  black  pants,"  rejoined 
Aunt  Martha  Young  in  troubled  accents. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Mary  Jane  Finney 
suddenly,  "I's  a  sinnah!  I's  a  sinnah! 
Git  me  in,  Brothah  Wiggins,  git  me  in 
somehow. ' ' 

"Me  too,  Brothah  Wiggins,  me  too!" 
shouted  an  excitable  sister  from  the  rear, 
298 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

pushing  her  way  closer  to  the  front,  and 
Brother  Wiggins  narrowly  escaped  suf 
focation  as  his  congregation  crowded 
anxiously  around  him. 

"Yo*  done  promise  me  yo'  coat-tail," 
asserted  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs,  taking  pos 
session  as  she  spoke.  "Ef  yo'  gits  in, 
I  gits  in  too. ' ' 

"De  othah  tail  b 'longs  tuh  me,"  an 
nounced  Aunt  Martha  Young.  "Me  an' 
Aun'  Janty  done  stay  by  yo'  when  all 
de  res7  tuck  an'  flop  ovah  tuh  Zion; 
'membah  dat." 

The  knees  of  Brother  Wiggins  trem 
bled  obviously,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  at 
self-control,  as  the  hour  of  midnight  ap 
proached,  and  he  huddled  in  the  shadow 
of  Little  Bethel  with  his  trembling  fol 
lowers  and  waited  the  blast  of  the  last 
trumpet.  And  the  moon  shed  its  soft 
light  impartially  upon  them  and  upon 
slumbering  Poketown,  unconscious  of 
299 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

its  doom.  It  also  shone  upon  the  ama 
teur  Indians,  reposing  comfortably  upon 
fragrant  haycocks,  utterly  indifferent  to 
the  day  of  reckoning  surely  in  store  for 
them,  whether  Justice  was  administered 
by  St.  Peter  or  their  earthly  guardians. 
Gabriel  awoke  from  his  nap  and 
jumped  to  his  feet.  It  was  quite  time 
to  arouse  his  band  and  begin  operations, 
for  he  yearned  to  see  the  pile  of  brush 
in  flames  and  to  dance  about  it  the  war- 
dance  so  diligently  practised  upon  the 
tow-path.  So  he  felt  of  the  feathers  in 
his  kinky  little  poll,  and  draped  the 
patchwork  quilt  again  about  his  person. 
Then,  standing  erect  upon  his  haycock, 
his  whole  energy  concentrated  upon  his 
task,  Gabriel  blew  three  blasts  upon  his 
horn. 

"De   las'   trump !"    gasped   Brother 
Wiggins. 

300 


BLAST    OF    THE    TBUMPET 

"Lawd  ha'  mercy!"  shrieked  Sister 
Eebecca  Brown. 

"  Speak  up,  Brothah  Wiggins,  speak 
up,"  exhorted  Aunt  Janty,  "show  Mis- 
tah  Gabriel  whuh  de  righteous  am. 
Speak  up  loud." 

Brother  Wiggins  struggled  vainly  to 
extricate  himself  from  her  detaining 
hand,  evidently  believing  that  self-pres 
ervation  is  indeed  the  first  law  of  nature. 

"Leggo!"  he  commanded,  clutching 
wildly  at  the  tails  of  his  coat,  which 
were  firmly  anchored  from  the  rear. 

Shadowy  white  figures  appeared  in 
the  distance  and  silently  advanced. 

"De  daid  am  riz!"  ejaculated  Brother 
Wiggins,  falling  face  downward  upon 
the  ground;  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs  and 
Aunt  Martha  Young  likewise  prostrated 
themselves,  the  one  on  his  right  hand, 
the  other  on  his  left. 

"Ef  yo'  wants  me,"  said  Mr.  Samuel 
301 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Johnson  excitedly,  addressing  Mrs. 
Johnson,  "yo's  got  tuh  hoi'  on  tight. 
Lucy  Ann  am  riz. ' ' 

"GVay,  niggah,"  she  returned, 
twitching  her  skirt  from  his  grasp,  "I's 
got  'nu:ff  tuh  do  tuh  take  cyah  o'  meh- 
se'f ;  ain'  gwine  tuh  tote  yo'  nohow. " 

The  figures  became  rather  more  dis 
tinct,  and  the  light  of  the  moon  fell 
directly  upon  the  many  brilliant  colors 
in  the  patchwork  quilt  which  enveloped 
Gabriel  Gibbs. 

"De  angils  Pom  heav'n  am  come 
down,"  whispered  Sister  Eoxy  Bristow. 
"Yondah's  Joseph;  I  knows  him  by  he 
coat.  Glory!  Glory!" 

Aunt  Janty  cautiously  raised  her 
head,  but  her  grandson  had  passed  and 
was  replaced  by  Alonzo  Burris,  who 
still  clung  to  his  ladder. 

"Praise  Gawd  Pom  who  all  blessings 
flows!"  she  exclaimed.  "Mistah  Jacob 
302 


BLAST    OF    THE    TEUMPET 

done  fotch  he  laddah  tub  he'p  us  climb 
up." 

"Fathah  Abraham, "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Samuel  Johnson  suddenly,  * '  whuh  is  yo ', 
Fathah  Abraham?  I's  done  ready  an' 
waitin'  tub  res'  on  yo'  buzzom." 

"Whut  yo'  talkin'  'bout?"  inter 
rupted  her  husband;  "dis  hyah  am  de 
buzzom  f uh  yo '  tub  res '  on.  I  goes  whuh 
yo'does;  I's  yo' husban',  I  is." 

"  'Tain'  no  easy  restin '-place,  yo' 
buzzom  ain',"  returned  his  wife  scorn 
fully.  "  I 's  gwine  ovah  to  Fathah  Abra 
ham,  I  is.  Yo '  kin  res '  wid  Lucy  Ann. ' ' 

And  a  dull,  ashen  hue  overspread  the 
countenance  of  Mr.  Johnson. 

Gabriel  and  his  band  of  warriors 
marched  silently  in  single  file  across  the 
back  of  the  churchyard  to  the  brush- 
heap  in  the  adjoining  field;  they  then 
produced  matches  and  set  fire  to  it  in 
various  places.  The  wood  was  old, 
303 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

rotten,  and  very  dry;  it  therefore 
burned  quickly  and  fiercely,  much  to  the 
delight  of  the  incendiaries.  A  row  of 
tall  pine-trees  formed  a  dark  back 
ground  against  which  the  flames  shone 
with  a  lurid  and  startling  effect. 

"De  gates  ob  Hell  am  open  wide!" 
shrieked  Mary  Jane  Finney,  pointing  a 
trembling  finger  at  the  blazing  pile. 

Brother  Wiggins  raised  himself 
slowly  to  his  knees;  Aunt  Janty  Gibbs 
and  Aunt  Martha  Young  did  likewise. 
They  were  firm  in  their  determination  to 
reproduce  his  slightest  movement,  thus 
insuring  salvation. 

"Pray,  Brothah,  pray,"  entreated 
Sister  Eebecca  Brown  frantically. 

Casting  aside  the  restraining  sheets, 
the  Indians  started  to  perform  the 
amazing  and  intricate  dance  invented  by 
their  Chief,  giving  vent  to  their  war- 
whoop  at  frequent  intervals. 
304 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

"De  howls  o'  dem  in  tormint,"  said 
Brother  Hyatt  unctuously. 

"Pray,  Brothah,  pray,"  urged  Sister 
Rebecca  Brown  again. 

Brother  Wiggins  raised  a  shaking 
hand  towards  the  sky;  immediately  the 
hands  of  Aunt  Janty  and  Aunt  Martha 
flew  upward  also,  as  though  moved  by 
invisible  springs. 

"Git  tuh  praying"  commanded 
Brother  Hyatt  sternly.  "Whut  we  been 
payin'  yo'  sellery  fuh  dis  long  time  ef 
yo'  ain'  no  use  now?  Git  tuh  prayinV 

Brother  Wiggins  tried  to  comply,  but 
his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his 
parched  mouth  and  speech  was  impossi 
ble.  Great  drops  of  perspiration  stood 
out  upon  his  clammy  brow  and  he  me 
chanically  drew  his  arm  across  it;  the 
foreheads  of  the  ladies  between  whom 
he  knelt  were  straightway  mopped  also. 

The  terrified  sheep  of  Little  Bethel 
20  305 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

shrank  closer  together  as  the  fire  blazed 
yet  more  brilliantly.  In  its  red  light 
they  beheld  small  black  imps  skipping 
excitedly  back  and  forth,  while  the  air 
was  continually  rent  with  shrieks,  pre 
sumably  of  souls  in  anguish. 

"I's  done  been  sanctified,  0  good 
Lawd!  don'  yo'  make  no  mistake  'bout 
dat.  Ps  done  got  'ligion  in  all  de 
chu'ches  in  Poketown,"  said  Sister 
Eoxy  Bristow  in  an  agony  of  supplica 
tion. 

"Baptis',  Baptis'  I  wuh  bawn,  an'  a 
Baptis'  will  I  die,"  chanted  Mary  Jane 
Finney  in  quavering  accents. 

"Brothah  Johnsing,"  whispered  Sis 
ter  Eebecca  Brown,  who  had  long  cher 
ished  a  secret  admiration  for  that  gen 
tleman,  "hide  yo'se'f,  Brothah  John- 
sing." 

And  Brother  Johnson  gladly  availed 
himself  of  the  proffered  refuge  behind 
306 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

her  ample  skirt;  he  had  an  uncomfort 
able  feeling  that  his  proper  place  was  in 
the  midst  of  the  red  fire,  and  the  idea 
was  unpleasant. 

Gabriel  was  enjoying  himself  exceed 
ingly.  The  feathers  in  his  hair  had 
dropped  out  one  by  one  until  only  two 
remained;  they,  however,  stood  erect, 
one  over  each  ear.  In  his  hand  he  car 
ried  the  pitchfork  he  had  snatched  from 
Isaiah  Bristow  that  he  might  poke  the 
fire.  At  last  he  mounted  the  fence,  and 
standing  on  the  top  rail  waved  the  fork 
about  his  head  in  the  exuberance  of  his 
delight. 

"Yondah's  ole  Satan  hisse'f,"  moaned 
Aunt  Martha  Young  miserably,  "I 
know  him  by  he  hawns. ' ' 

"Lay  low,  Brothah  Johnsing,  lay 
low,"  counselled  Sister  Rebecca  sotto 
voce,  "don1  git  skeert." 

"W-w-hoskeert?  Me?  Iain'  skeert," 

307 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

returned  Mr.  Johnson  with  chattering 
teeth,  drawing  the  folds  of  her  skirt 
closer  around  his  crouching  figure. 

"Brothah  Wiggins/'  said  Mary  Jane 
Finney  tearfully, ' '  whut  yo '  got  tuh  say, 
Brothah  Wiggins  ?" 

But  Brother  Wiggins  had  nothing  at 
all  to  say.  He  could  only  lift  his  other 
trembling  hand  upward.  Aunt  Martha 
and  Aunt  Janty  did  not  imitate  this 
motion;  to  do  so  they  would  have  been 
obliged  to  relinquish  the  tails  of  his 
coat. 

"Dey's  a  sinnah  'mongst  us,"  said 
Brother  Hyatt  suddenly,  "an'  Mistah 
Satan  am  on  he  trail. " 

"Lay  low,  Brothah  Johnsing,  lay 
low,"  whispered  Sister  Eebecca. 

And  Brother  Johnson  laid  very  low. 

"Brothah   Johnsing   am   de    out-an'- 
outes'  sinnah  in  Poketown,"  said  Sister 
Boxy  Bristow  suddenly. 
308 


BLAST    OF    THE    TRUMPET 

"A-amen,  dat's  so!"  agreed  Mrs. 
Johnson  fervently. 

"Brothah  Johnsing,"  said  Mr.  Hyatt 
solemnly,  "yo's  wanted;  say  yo' 
prayahs. ' ' 

"Lay  low,  Brothah  Johnsing,"  re 
peated  Sister  Rebecca,  "lay  mighty 
low!'7 

At  this  point  Gabriel  on  the  fence 
dropped  his  pitchfork  into  the  grave 
yard  and  sprang  after  it.  A  general 
stampede  ensued,  and  the  congregation 
of  Little  Bethel  seemed  to  scatter  to  the 
four  winds  of  heaven.  Gabriel,  recog 
nizing  several  familiar  figures,  gave  a 
shrill  whistle  of  warning,  and  the  In 
dians  dispersed  swiftly  and  in  conster 
nation. 

Aunt   Janty   Gibbs    stumbled   in  her 

flight  and  fell  headlong  upon  something 

warm  and  soft ;  she  clasped  convulsively 

to  her  bosom  the  tail  of  a  black  coat; 

309 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

while  Aunt  Martha  Young,  rushing 
blindly  in  another  direction,  clung  des 
perately  to  its  mate ;  the  coat  itself  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Surprised  at  the  silence  which  fol 
lowed  the  thud  of  departing  feet,  Aunt 
Janty  raised  her  head  cautiously  and 
looked  about  her.  Mechanically  she 
glanced  at  the  soft  substance  upon  which 
she  lay;  she  looked  long  and  earnestly. 

"Nevah  thunk  I'd  take  meh  patch- 
wuck  quilt  tuh  heav'n,"  she  muttered, 
examining  it  carefully  by  the  light  of 
the  moon.  Something  lay  on  the  ground 
beside  her  and  she  touched  it  gingerly; 
it  proved  to  be  a  tin  horn,  crushed  flat 
from  being  stepped  upon,  and  it  looked 
strangely  familiar. 

"Jerooselum  Jehosaphat!"  exclaimed 
Aunt  Janty  as  she  removed  a  turkey- 
feather  from  its  mouthpiece. 

Aunt  Janty  sat  motionless  for  some 

310 


BLAST    OF    THE    TEUMPET 

minutes,  absorbed  in  thought;  then  she 
arose  and  folded  her  torn  and  muddy 
quilt  across  her  arm,  and  gathering  up 
her  damaged  horn  and  as  many  feathers 
as  she  could  find  started  for  home.  On 
her  way  she  encountered  the  brush-heap 
smouldering  in  its  ashes;  she  stopped 
and  looked  scornfully  at  it. 

"Mistah  Clayton's  ole  bresh-pile," 
she  muttered  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

As  she  passed  the  residence  of  Brother 
Wiggins  the  face  of  that  gentleman  ap 
peared  at  an  upper  window. 

"Aun'  Janty,"  he  said,  "has  yo'  done 
'scape  f 'om  ole  Satan?  I  done  lock  meh- 
se'f  up  hyah  jes'  tuh  pray  fuh  yo',  Aun' 
Janty." 

"Hyah  am  de  tail  o'  yo'  coat,"  re 
plied  the  lady  briefly  as  she  hung  it  on 
the  fence;  "I  ain'  gwine  tuh  need  hit  no 
mo',  nuh  yo'  prayahs  nuthah." 

"Ole  Satan!"  she  said  aloud  as  she 
311 


POKETOWN    PEOPLE 

walked  on;  "  'peahs  like  young  Satan 
an  mo'  tub  de  p'int." 

Beaching  her  own  house,  she  repaired 
to  the  cot  occupied  by  her  grandson.  It 
was  empty.  She  then  re-covered  her 
father,  who  complained  irritably  of  the 
cold,  and  replaced  the  can  of  red  paint 
on  its  shelf  in  the  wash-shed ;  it  had  been 
overturned  and  its  contents  had  deeply 
stained  a  pile  of  clothes  waiting  to  be 
washed.  Aunt  Janty  looked  grimly  at 
them;  she  then  picked  up  the  wreck  of 
her  turkey-tail  fan  and  looked  at  it 
also. 

Extinguishing  the  lamp,  she  opened 
the  front  door  on  a  crack  and  sat  down 
just  behind  it.  She  had  thought  out  a 
plan  and  intended  to  execute  it. 

' '  Janty, "  called  the  old  man  queru 
lously,  "com  tub  baid." 

"Ps   gwine   tub  wait  fuh   Gabriel/' 
returned  Aunt  Janty  grimly. 
312 


XII 

THE  INTERVENTION  OF 
GRAN  TAP 

"GwiNE  tub  Buck  Camp,  Sistah  Sim 
mons  ? ' ' 

"Well,  I  dunno  babdly,  Uncle  Ben. 
I  'lowed  I'd  be  dah  sbo',  but  Vinny  sbe's 
bopin'  tub  go  along  wid  Ike  Lewis  in  a 
buggy,  so  dab's  nobody  tub  leave  wid 
de  baby,  an7  I  ain't  no  band  tub  tote  a 
baby  w'en  I  goes  a-pleasurin'." 

"Yo'  bettab  go,  Sistab,  yo'  bettab  go. 
It's  gwine  tub  be  a  great  day  at  de  Buck; 
de  new  preacber  f  om  down  de  State's 
comin';  dey  do  say  be's  a  powerful 
zorter,  an'  I  spec'  be '11  bring  de  sins  of 
many  borne  tub  'em.  We  needs  yo',  Sis- 
tab  Simmons,  we  needs  yo'  bad  tub 
labab  wid  po'  souls  aftab  we  gits  'em 
down  on  de  mo 'nabs'  bencb.  Wbut's  a 
313 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

baby  tub   a   soul,   tell  me   dat,    Sistah 
Simmons  I ' ' 

" Hit's  got  one  of  its  own  comin'  on, 
I'll  tell  yo'  dat  mucb,  Uncle  Ben,  an' 
whut's  mo',  I  ain'  gwine  tub  leave  meb 
baby  fur  no  lazy  niggah's  soul." 

"No  'fence  meant,  Mis'  Simmons; 
none  took,  I  bope.  Well,  I  must  be  jog- 
gin'.  So  long,  Sistab,  so  long." 

Mrs.  Simmons  went  on  banging  out 
tbe  family  wasb.  Tbrougb  tbe  open 
window  sbe  could  see  ber  daughter, 
Lavinia,  busily  engaged  in  ironing  a 
wbite  frock  to  be  worn  on  tbe  morrow. 
Asleep  on  tbe  lounge  lay  tbe  baby,  Vio 
let  Clare,  on  wbose  account  Mrs.  Sim 
mons  must  forego  tbe  camp-meeting. 
Digging  angle-worms  for  bait,  near  tbe 
wood-pile,  was  ber  son  Isaiab,  a  sooty 
youtb  of  thirteen  years.  Sbe  looked 
around  on  ber  assembled  family  and 
sbook  ber  bead: 

314 


GRANT AP     INTERVENES 

"I  sho'ly  ought  tub  be  dah,"  she 
muttered;  "I  sho'ly  ought  tuh  be 
dah." 

"I's  got  meh  frock  all  ironed, 
mammy, "  remarked  Lavinia  as  they  sat 
at  supper  that  evening,  "an'  it  do  look 
mighty  nice.  I  nevah  seen  a  rale  big 
camp  befo';  spects  maybe  I'll  git 
'ligion." 

"Ho!"  said  Isaiah  contemptuously 
as  he  accomplished  the  difficult  feat  of 
putting  a  corn-cake  in  his  mouth  with 
out  cutting  it;  "ho!  Yo'  git  'ligion! 
All  yo'  wants  is  tuh  go  wid  Ike  Lewis 
an'  w'ar  yo'  best  clo'es." 

Mrs.  Simmons  sighed  heavily. 

"Vinny,"  she  said,  "po'  ole  gran'- 
pap's  failin'  rapid.  I  was  tole  down 
tuh  de  sto'  dat  he  kain'  las'  many  days 
mo'.  Po' ole  gran 'pap!  I 's  all  de  chile 
he's  got." 

315 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Laws,  mammy,"  cried  Isaiah,  "I 
seen  gran 'pap " 

"Shet  yo'  mouf,  yo9  limb  o'  Satan," 
said  his  mother,  turning  hastily  upon 
him.  "Ain't  yo'  got  no  mannahs?  Set- 
tin'  dah  gorgin'  yo'se'f  till  yo's  fit  to 
bus',  an'  interruptin'  of  yo'  eldahs  wid 
yo'  mouf  full  o'  vittles.  Keep  quiet 
twell  yo's  spoke  to." 

"But,  mammy " 

Mrs.  Simmons  glanced  in  an  expres 
sive  manner  at  the  mantel-shelf,  on 
which  stood  a  stout  hickory  switch. 
Isaiah  had  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
that  switch  and  judged  it  best  to  be 
silent,  but  he  relieved  his  feelings  by 
sticking  out  his  tongue  at  his  mother 
whenever  she  looked  the  other  way. 

"Vinny,  honey,"  resumed  Mrs.  Sim 
mons  in  tones  of  liquid  sweetness,  "I 
does  mos'  mightily  hate  tuh  disapp'int 
yo',  chile,  but  I  mus'  go  tuh  gran 'pap 
316 


GRANTAP     INTERVENES 

to-morrow.  I's  all  de  chile  he's  got, 
Vinny,  an'  dab's  nobody  else  tub  he'p 
him  pass  ovah  Jordan.  Of  co'se,  dar 
ling  yo'  nans'  take  keer  of  de  baby  fuh 
mammy  while  she's  gone." 

Lavinia  remained  silent  from  aston 
ishment,  while  Mrs.  Simmons  resorted 
to  her  apron  to  wipe  the  tears  from  her 
eyes. 

" Hit's  a  mighty  sad  'casion  fuh  me," 
she  resumed  in  broken  accents, — 
"mighty  sad.  He's  de  onliest  daddy  I's 
got,  an'  he's  passin'  away  fas'.  Hain't 
yo'  got  nothin'  tub  say,  yo'  unnat'ral 
gal?  Yo'  own  gran 'pap!  An'  yo'  not 
willin'  tub  stay  home  jes'  onct  an'  let 
him  die!  But  yo'  got  tub  stay,  Miss, 
whuthah  yo'  likes  it  or  not;  so  min',  I 
tell  yo'." 

Experience  had  taught  Lavinia  the 
futility  of  argument  with  her  parent. 
She  doubted  her  grandfather's  illness, 
317 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

but  was  afraid  to  say  so,  and  merely 
relapsed  into  sullen  silence. 

Bright  and  early  the  next  morning 
Mrs.  Simmons  prepared  to  set  out  on 
her  errand  of  mercy. 

"Good-by,  honey, "  she  said  to  La- 
vinia;  "don'  yo'  let  nothin'  happen  tuh 
mammy's  chile.  An'  as  fuh  yo',  Isaiah, 
don'  yo'  leave  dis  yard  to-day,  an'  mind 
whut  yo'  sistah  tells  yo'.  I  hopes  I'll 
git  tuh  po'  ole  gran 'pap  in  time,  but  I 
dunno,  I  dunno;  I  spects  he's  gittin' 
weakah  ev'ry  minute." 

Lavinia  watched  her  mother's  broad 
back  disappear  down  the  road,  then 
went  up  to  her  rooom,  the  light  of  a 
mighty  resolution  shining  in  her  eyes. 

"I's  gwine,"  she  muttered;  "I's 
gwine  wid  Ike  when  he  comes  fuh  me. 
I  don't  keer  whut  happens,  I's  gwine 
tuh  de  Buck  to-day." 

She  arrayed  herself  in  her  best  clothes, 
318 


GEANTAP     INTEEVENES 

then  sought  her  brother,  who  sat  on  the 
door-step  whittling,  and  deposited  the 
baby  in  his  unwilling  arms,  charging 
him  to  take  good  care  of  it  until  her  re 
turn.  Turning  a  deaf  ear  to  his  inquiries 
where  she  was  going,  she  started  off  in 
the  direction  her  mother  had  gone,  and 
was  shortly  overtaken  by  a  young 
mulatto  with  a  fine  new  buggy,  into 
which  she  got,  and  they  drove  off. 

Isaiah  sat  on  the  door-step  and  held 
the  baby.  He  had  no  love  for  babies  at 
any  time,  but  to-day  they  seemed  espe 
cially  unnecessary.  The  Jones  family 
passed  on  their  way  to  camp ;  they  were 
all  going,  even  the  little  children.  Isaiah 
pondered  on  the  unequal  division  of  the 
good  things  of  this  world.  Aunt  Sarah 
Dixon  inquired  if  she  might  leave  her 
basket,  to  be  called  for;  Isaiah  had  no 
objection,  so  she  put  it  in  the  kitchen. 
Two  cronies  of  his  own  appeared;  evi- 
319 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

dently  they  were  not  going  to  camp,  for 
they  carried  fishing-rods  and  lovely  tin 
cans  full  of  earthworms.  Isaiah  had  a 
tin  can  of  his  own  out  by  the  gate.  He 
placed  the  baby  on  the  ground  and  ran 
down  to  speak  to  them. 

"Whuh  yo'  gwine?"  he  demanded. 

* '  Feeshin ' ;  come  along. ' ' 

"Don'  wan7  tuh  go  feeshinV 

1 '  Ho !  'Fraid  of  y o '  mammy !  'Fraid- 
cat,  'f raid-cat!  Got  tuh  tend  de  baby. 
Y-a-a-h!" 

There  was  murder  in  Isaiah's  eye  as 
he  threw  stones  at  his  retreating  friends. 

Violet  Clare  on  the  ground  wailed  dis 
mally,  and  Isaiah  regarded  her  with  an 
unfraternal  expression. 

"Well,  cry  den,"  he  said,  "holler. 
Who  keers  ef  yo'  does?  Wisht  dah 
wasn't  no  babies  in  de  world;  wisht  dah 
hadn'  never  been  none." 

Isaiah  passed  a  miserable  morning, 
320 


GKANTAP     INTERVENES 

but  about  noon  his  charge  fell  asleep. 
He  laid  her  on  the  lounge  and  went  out 
into  the  yard.  The  sun  had  gone  under 
a  cloud,  but  between  the  trees  he  could 
see  the  glimmer  of  the  canal. 

"Spec'  de  feesh  is  bitin'  fine,"  he 
murmured. 

His  fishing-rod  stood  suggestively 
near  at  hand ;  the  very  worms  in  the  tin 
can  wriggled  invitingly  and  seemed  to 
be  asking  for  the  hook.  Isaiah  dug  his 
bare  toes  into  the  soft  earth  and  fairly 
quivered.  Then  he  went  and  looked  at 
the  sleeping  baby ;  he  knew  she  was  safe 
for  an  hour  or  two  why  should  he  not 
enjoy  himself?  Suddenly  an  inspiration 
occurred  to  him.  On  the  shelf  was  the 
paregoric  bottle,  known  as  "draps." 
Many  a  time  he  had  seen  the  child 
quieted  by  a  judicious  dose ;  perhaps  if 
he  gave  her  some  now  she  might  sleep 
another  hour  or  two.  He  knew  the 
21  321 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

proper  amount,  but,  wishing  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure,  lie  largely  in 
creased  the  quantity  and  poured  it  down 
the  throat  of  the  sleeping  child.  Then 
he  looked  for  a  safe  place  to  put  her. 
She  might  roll  off  the  lounge;  the  same 
objection  held  good  with  regard  to  the 
bed.  He  scratched  his  head  doubtfully, 
but  as  he  did  so  his  eye  fell  on  the  basket 
left  by  Aunt  Sarah  Dixon.  It  was  a 
straw  hamper  with  lids  opening  each 
side  of  the  handle,  and  quite  large 
enough  to  hold  the  baby.  Isaiah  thought 
she  might  sleep  very  comfortably  there. 
Somebody's  laundry  was  on  its  way  to 
the  wash,  but  he  had  no  scruples  about 
removing  it  and  placing  a  pillow  in  the 
bottom,  on  which  he  laid  the  slumbering 
infant ;  he  replaced  the  mosquito-netting 
which  had  covered  the  clothes  and  closed 
one  lid,  leaving  the  one  at  her  feet  open 
for  ventilation. 

322 


GRAN'PAP     INTEBVENES 

" Nobody  won't  know,"  he  reflected. 
"I'll  be  home  fust,  an'  nobody  won't 
know. ' ' 

He  closed  the  door  securely,  but  when 
he  got  outside  he  leaned  through  the 
window  and  looked  once  more  at  the 
basket ;  then  he  applied  his  thumb  to  his 
nose,  wriggled  his  fingers  derisively  at 
the  unconscious  infant,  and  started  for 
the  canal  with  a  wild  whoop. 

Down  at  the  Buck  Lavinia  was  finding 
the  camp  not  quite  all  her  fancy  painted 
it.  She  had  quarrelled  with  her  escort, 
and  he  had  not  come  near  her  since  their 
arrival;  therefore  she  feared  she  would 
have  to  walk  home.  She  had  not  been 
altogether  surprised  to  see  her  mother, 
and  much  of  the  day  had  been  spent  in 
dodging  her.  Consequently  she  was  not 
happy.  Night  approached,  and  as  dark 
ness  gathered  the  woods  filled  with  peo- 
323 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

pie  from  all  over  the  surrounding  coun 
try.  She  thought  she  would  go  and  hear 
the  preaching. 

The  speaker  stood  on  a  log  in  a  cleared 
place  about  in  the  centre  of  the  wood; 
behind  him,  in  a  semicircle,  stood  men 
with  lighted  torches  which  flickered 
strangely,  casting  lurid  flames  against 
the  black  background  of  trees.  In  front 
of  him  were  gathered  the  faithful  who 
had  long  ago  got  religion,  and  were  close 
at  hand  to  start  the  singing,  say 
"Amen!"  or  "Praise  the  Lord!"  in  the 
proper  place,  and  to  comfort  and  exhort 
those  whose  sins  had  suddenly  become 
oppressive  to  them.  Prominent  in  this 
group  was  Mrs.  Simmons. 

Lavinia  sat  on  a  log  and  listened  to 
the  preacher: 

"Breddern  an'  sistern,"  he  was  say 
ing,  "as  I  done  tole  yo'  befV,  I  takes 
meh  tex'  f'om  de  Bible.  Not  f'om  de 
324 


GKAN'PAP     INTEEVENES 

New  Tessamint  nuh  de  Ole  Tessamint, 
but  jes'  Pom  de  Bible.  Anywhus  be- 
twux'  its  kivvahs,  scusin'  maybe  de  Song 
o'  Solomon,  yo'  kin  fin'  it.  An7  whut 
do  it  say?  Tell  me  dat;  whut  do  it  say? 
It  say  'Be  good,7  an'  it  say  it  loud  an' 
strong.  Does  yo'  want  tub  go  tub 
Heav'n?  Ef  yo'  does,  yo'  got  tub  min' 
yo'  mannabs.  Wbut  yo'  come  byah  fo* 
to-day?  Did  yo'  come  tub  walk  abm- 
in-abm  wid  Laz'rus?  Did  yo'  come 
tub  climb  de  ladder  wid  Jacob,  an' 
fight  de  lions  wid  Daniel?  or  did  yo' 
come  tub  show  yo'  clo'es  an'  meet  yo' 
frien's?" 

"A-a-a-men!  Praise  de  Lawd!" 
arose  from  the  faithful. 

Here  an  old  man,  in  quavering 
accents,  started  a  hymn  which  was 
taken  up  by  one  after  the  other  of 
the  assembly  until  the  woods  rang  with 
the  chorus: 

325 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Roll,  Jordan,  roll! 
Roll,  Jordan,  roll! 

I  wants  tub  go  tub  Heav'n  when  I  die, 
Tub  hyah  Sweet  Jordan  roll." 

"Sistah,  willyo'  be  dab?  Dat's  whut 
I  wants  tub  know.  When  ole  Jordan  am 
a-rollin'  an'  a-ragin',  will  yo'  be  dah,  in 
yo'  w'ite  robes  an'  wid  yo'  crown  o' 
glory?  I's  feared  yo'  ain't  all  gwine 
tub  be  settin'  in  de  Kingdom  tub  byab 
Sweet  Jordan  roll  wben  ole  Gabriel  am 
a-blowin'  of  de  las'  bobn." 

With  a  loud  cry  of  ' '  Lawd,  ha '  mussy 
on  meh  soul,"  Lavinia  rushed  forward 
and  cast  herself  on  the  mourners '  bench. 

"Hyah's  a  po'  li'l  lamb  strayed 
f'om  de  fole.  Sistah  Simmons,  will 
yo'  pray  wid  hub,  an'  show  huh  de  way 
home?" 

Mrs.  Simmons,  whose  attention  had 
been  wandering,  did  not  recognize  her 
daughter  in  the  prostrate  figure,  so  she 
326 


GRANT AP     INTERVENES 

bent  over  her  and  half  carried  her  to  a 
secluded  spot  near  by. 

"Po'  soul,"  she  said,  " don't  take  on 
so,  honey.  Yo'  po'  sinful  heart's  striv- 
in'  fo'  peace,  an'  de  good  Lawd's  gwine 
tuh  give  it  tuh  yo'.  Look  up  now  an' 
be  thankful  yo '  sin  has  found  yo '  out. ' ' 

She  forcibly  removed  the  girl's  hands 
from  before  her  face.  For  a  moment 
the  two  sat  on  the  ground  and  stared  at 
each  other,  speechless.  Mrs.  Simmons 
was  the  first  to  recover  herself. 

"Vinny!"  she  said,  punctuating  her 
remarks  by  vigorous  shakes,  "Vinny! 
Sakes  alive!  Whuh  meh  baby?  Whut 
yo'  doin'  hyah?  Whuh  meh  baby? 
Whuh  Vi'let  Clare?" 

Lavinia  rallied. 

" Mammy,"  she  said,  "how's  po'  ole 
gran 'pap?  Was  yo'  in  time  tuh  he'p 
him  pass  ovah  Jordan?" 

"Lavinia  Simmons,"  said  her  mother 
327 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

solemnly,  "we's  all  sinnahs,  mo'  er  less. 
Me  an'  yo'll  staht  fuh  home  dis  instan' 
minute  an'  see  ef  any  hahm's  come  tub 
meh  baby,  an'  ef  it  bave " 

Isaiab  started  cbeerfully  borne  from 
tbe  canal  when  it  suited  him  to  do  so, 
untroubled  by  any  remembrance  of  neg 
lected  duty.  He  was  surprised  not  to 
hear  the  lamentations  of  Violet  Clare  as 
he  approached  the  house,  so  went  in 
somewhat  fearfully  and  looked  around. 

There  was  no  basket;  there  was  no 
baby.  Frantically  he  searched  both 
house  and  woodshed.  The  child  was 
gone. 

Suddenly  a  horrible  idea  occurred  to 
him.  He  had  often  heard  his  mother 
discuss  medical  students  generally,  and 
the  various  ways  by  which  they  got  chil 
dren  and  hid  them  in  dissecting-rooms 
for  future  use.  Isaiah  knew  all  about 
328 


GRAN'PAP     INTERVENES 

these  dark  practices  and  trembled  with 
fear. 

"It's  stujents,"  he  thought;  "stu 
jents  has  got  huh  an'  dey'll  git  me 
too." 

Night  came  on,  and  he  cast  appre 
hensive  glances  at  the  gathering  dark 
ness.  The  lost  baby  and  the  retribution 
awaiting  him  when  his  mother  returned 
were  both  forgotten,  and  he  thought  only 
of  the  dreadful  fate  in  store  for  him. 
At  last  footsteps  were  heard  on  the  path 
and  he  made  a  wild  dash  for  the  wood 
shed,  from  which  retreat  he  was  pres 
ently  dragged  ruthlessly  forth. 

"Lemme  go,"  he  gasped,  "lemme  go. 
I  am'  done  nothin'." 

"Ain'  done  nothin',  ain'  yo',"  re" 
turned  his  mother's  voice.  "Whut  yo' 
hidin'  fuh,  ef  yo'  ain'  done  no  thin '1 
Whuh  meh  baby?  Has  yo'  been  an'  los' 
meh  chile?  Quit  rollin'  up  de  w'ites  o* 
329 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

yo'  eyes  an'  tell  me  whut  yo'  done  wid 
meh  chile.  Whuh  meh  baby?" 

"I  nevah  done  it.  Hope  tub  die  I 
nevab  done  lef  de  bouse.  Stujents 
come  an'  stole  bub  wbile  I  was  gittin' 
bub  bottle  fixed.  I  seen  'em  hidin'  bub  in 
de  kerriage  an'  I  hollered  tub  'em  tub 
drap  huh,  but  dey  kep'  right  on,  an' 
dey's  comin'  back  fuh  me  too.  Oh 
mammy,  don't  let  'em  git  me !  Don't  let 
'em  git  me!" 

"Oh  meh  baby,"  wailed  Mrs.  Sim 
mons,  wringing  her  hands.  "Oh  meh 
li'l,  li'l  chile!  Stole  by  de  stujents!  I 
knowed  dab  was  trubble  comin'  tub  dis 
house  when  I  seen  de  cheer  a-rockin'  an' 
dab  wasn't  nobody  in  it!  I  knowed  I's 
gwine  tub  see  trubble  when  de  byhd  flew 
in  de  windab.  Whuh  meh  baby?  Whut 
dey  done  tub  meh  baby?" 

Mrs.  Simmons  wept  aloud  in  an  agony 
of  grief  j  Lavinia  joined  her  in  a  tumult 
330 


GBANTAP    INTERVENES 

of  regret  at  deserting  her  charge;  and 
Isaiah  howled  loudest  of  all  in  vivid  an 
ticipation  of  future  events. 

Suddenly  loud,  determined  knocking 
was  heard  on  the  front  door. 

"De  stujents!"  gasped  Isaiah,  his 
blood  turning  to  ice  in  his  veins. 

"Vinny,"  whispered  Mrs.  Simmons, 
seizing  the  poker,  "fill  de  dippah  wid 
b'ilin'  watah,  an'  when  I  h'ists  de  pokah 
fling  it  in  dey  faces.  Dey  done  got  meh 
baby,  but  dey  ain'  gwine  tuh  git  no  mo." 

The  knocking  was  repeated. 

"W-h-h-h-o  dah?"  said  Mrs.  Sim 
mons,  with  chattering  teeth. 

"Fo*  de  Lawd's  sake,"  replied  Aunt 
Sarah  Dixon,  as  she  opened  the  door  and 
walked  in,  bearing  in  her  arms  the  miss 
ing  baby.  "Fo*  de  Lawd's  sake !  Whut 
de  mattah  wid  yo '  all  ?  Hyah  's  yo '  chile, 
Mis'  Simmons.  Eube,  he  done  tuck  huh 
home  wid  him  in  de  clo  'es-basket,  whuh 
331 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

she  was  a-sleepin',  an'  nevah  knowed  it. 
He  done  fetch  huh  back  twict,  but  dah 
wasn't  nobody  round,  'ceptin'  Isaiah  (he 
seen  him  kitin'  off  to'ds  de  canal),  so  he 
took  huh  home  an'  kep'  huh  safe  all  day. 
Eube  done  stop  hyah  as  I  tole  him  fuh 
Miss  Molly's  wash  dat  I  lef  in  de 
hampah,  an'  he  found  de  baby  'stid  o' 
de  clo'es  when  he  unkiwahed  de  basket. 
But  she  ain't  a  mite  de  wuss,  an'  so  no 
hahm's  done.  So  long,  Mis'  Simmons." 

Dead  silence  prevailed  after  Mrs. 
Dixon's  departure.  The  eye  of  his 
mother  was  on  Isaiah  and  he  quailed 
before  it.  Presently  she  said  in  a  dan 
gerously  polite  tone, — 

"Huccum  meh  baby  in  dat  basket?" 

No  answer.  Mrs.  Simmons  reached 
for  the  switch  on  the  mantel. 

"Whuh  yo'  spec'  tuh  go  when  yo' 
dies?"  she  demanded.  "Yo'  done  went 
off  an'  lef '  de  baby,  an'  tole  me  yo'  seen 

332 


GRAN'PAP     INTERVENES 

de  stujents  hidin'  huh  in  de  kerriage. 
Maybe  I  could  ha'  scused  yo'  runnin' 
off  feeshin';  maybe  I  could;  but  whut 
I  kain'  scuse  nohow  is  de  lies  yo'  done 
tole  me.  Don't  yo'  know  whut  comes 
tuh  boys  dat  tells  lies?  It's  a  wondah 
de  good  Lawd  don 't  strike  yo '  daid.  Yo ' 
done  make  me  b'lieve  meh  baby  was 
stole  by  de  stujents,  an'  now  I's  gwine 
tuh  make  yo'  wish  de  stujents  had  a-got 
yo'  sho'  'nuff.  I's  gwine  tuh  1'arn  yo' 
tuh  tell  lies  tuh  yo'  mammy." 

Isaiah  watched  his  mother  and 
breathed  quickly.  He  saw  that  he  must 
act,  and  that  at  once. 

" Mammy,"  he  cried,  "I  seen  gran'- 
pap  down  to  de  canal,  an'  he  done  tole 
me " 

The  hand  stretched  forth  to  seize 
Isaiah's  collar  dropped  heavily  as  Mrs. 
Simmons  gazed  from  one  of  her  off 
spring  to  the  other  in  a  furtive  manner. 
333 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

Then  she  suddenly  threw  an  arm  around 
each,  drawing  both  into  her  capacious 
embrace. 

"We's  all  po',  mizzable  sinnahs,"  she 
said,  "but  meh  baby  am  back  all  safe 
an'  soun',  an'  gran 'pap  am  snatched 
f  'om  de  jaws  o'  death  by  de  han'  o'  de 
Lawd,  so  we  won't  say  no  mo'  about  it, 
but  jine  in  singin'  'Praise  Gawd  f'om 
whom  all  blessin's  flows,'  an'  take  off 
our  bes'  clo'es  an'  go  tuh  baid." 


334 


XIII 
AT   FIDDLER'S   BRIDGE 

"Asr  jes'  at  midnight  at  de  full  o'  de 
moon  yo'  kin  hyah  de  fiddle  chunin'  up, 
and  ef  yo'  goes  tub  de  aidge  o'  de  bridge 
an'  draps  a  piece  o'  silvah  intuh  de 
watah  (ten  cents '11  do),  and  sez  'Come 
fo'th,  John  Thompson/  sho's  yo'  bawn, 
chile,  out  he  come  an'  plays.  Dat's  huc- 
cum  de  place  tub  be  called  Fiddlah's 
Bridge." 

Mrs.  Bostwick  held  out  her  hand  hos 
pitably  to  replenish  the  cup  of  her  guest, 
the  Rev.  Kinnard  Brice,  who  shook  his 
head  doubtfully  as  he  replied, — 

"I  sho'ly  am  'stonished,  Sistah  Bos'- 
wick,  dat  a  lady  o'  yo'  refinery  should 
b'lieve  in  ghosesses." 

Mrs.  Bostwick  bridled  at  the  delicate 
335 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

flattery  conveyed  in  this  speech,  but 
stuck  to  her  point. 

"It  am  a  fac',"  she  repeated  solemnly. 
"My  boy  Hose's  yallah  gal  Jinny  done 
hyah  it  wunst  when  she  was  comin'  f 'om 
de  Big  Quarterly,  an'  it  skeert  huh  so 
bad  she  ain't  been  hyah  sence.  I  sut- 
tenly  hates  tuh  live  so  close,  but  dey 
ain'  no  he'p  fuh  it,  so  I  jes'  stays  in 
de  house  at  sech  times  ez  I  think  ole 
John  Thompson's  roun'.  Ain'  yo' 
gwine  tuh  have  no  mo'  dis  cawn  pone, 
Brothah  Brice?  I  done  made  it  speshul 
fuhyo'." 

"I's  'bliged  tuh  yo',  Sistah,  but  I's 
had  'miff  fuh  de  present.  I's  been  study- 
in'  yo'  wo'ds,  Sistah  Bos 'wick,  an'  I's 
done  come  tuh  de  seclusion  dat  it's  meh 
juty  tuh  p'int  out  tuh  yo'  fuh  sho'  dat 
dey  ain't  no  sperrits  down  tuh  de  bridge. 
I's  gwine  tuh  stop  hyah  on  meh  way 
f 'om  Camp  dis  evenin',  an'  yo'  an'  me '11 
336 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

go  down  tuh  de  watah.  Ef  dey's  any- 
thin7  dah  'tain'  gwine  tuh  huht  us, — 
me  bein'  sanctified  anyhow  and  yo' 
havin'  jes'  sperienced  'ligion  down  tuh 
de  Buck,  an'  ef  he  shows  hisse'f  I'll  zort 
wid  him  an'  lay  him  low." 

Mrs.  Bostwick  accepted  this  handsome 
offer  somewhat  reluctantly.  She  was 
honestly  afraid  to  go  to  the  bridge  after 
nightfall,  but  under  the  circumstances 
did  not  see  her  way  clear  to  refuse,  stipu 
lating,  however,  that  her  husband  should 
not  be  told  of  the  proposed  expedition, 
he  having  frequently  ridiculed  her  fears 
of  the  old  fiddler  and  announced  that  he 
would  not  object  to  sitting  on  the  bridge 
all  night  if  necessary. 

She  watched  the  long,  lank  figure  of 
the  preacher  disappear  over  the  hill, 
then  went  into  the  house,  where  she  en 
countered  her  husband,  who  was  care 
fully  depositing  something  on  the  table. 
22  337 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"Dannel  Bos 'wick,"  she  demanded 
sternly,  "whuh  yo'  git  dat  watahmillion? 
Yo'  didn'  hab  no  money.  Don'  yo' 
fotch  no  stolen  millions  intuh  dis  house. 
Does  yo'  hyah  me  talkin"?  Whuh  yo' 
gititt" 

Eeceiving  no  reply  to  this  inquiry,  she 
approached  the  table  and  tapped  the 
melon  inquiringly  with  her  thumb  and 
finger. 

" Hit's  mighty  ripe,"  she  murmured; 
' '  seems  like  a  pity  tuh  let  it  go  tuh  was  'e. 
Don'  yo'  tell  me  yo'  stole  it,  Dannel, 
'caze  I  ain't  gwine  tuh  b'lieve  no  sech 
thing.  Yo'  ain'  got  'ligion;  yo'  picks 
de  banjo,  an'  yo'  plays  de  'cordeen,  but 
yo'  didn't  steal  no  watahmillion;  I 
knows  dat.  Git  de  knife,  honey,  quick, 
an'  le's  begin." 

"Bachel,"  ventured  Daniel,  when  the 
feast  was  nearing  completion  and  noth 
ing  but  a  large  pile  of  rinds  remained 
338 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

to  tell  the  tale,  "Rachel,  was  yo'  washin' 
up  tuh  de  big  house  tuh-day?" 

"Yaas,"  said  Mrs.  Bostwick,  ejecting 
melon-seeds  as  she  spoke,  "I  was." 

"Whut  yo'  fotch  hornet" 

"Dannel,"  said  Mrs.  Bostwick  right 
eously,  "I  fotch  nothin'  home.  Does  yo' 
think  I's  gwine  tuh  take  whut  don' 
b'long  tuh  me  jes'  'caze  yo'  likes  tuh  set 
an'  stuff  yo'se'f?  I's  'feared  Brothah 
Brice  am  right,  Dannel,  an'  yo's  mighty 
onregin'rit." 

Daniel  sighed.  Life  was  not  so  pleas 
ant  since  Rachel  had  got  religion  some 
two  weeks  ago,  and  had,  as  it  were,  re 
nounced  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil.  Formerly  when  she  went  to  the 
big  house  to  do  the  weekly  washing,  her 
ample  proportions  were  covered  by  volu 
minous  skirts  containing  many  and  deep 
pockets,  one  of  which,  indeed,  was  in 
geniously  lined  with  rubber  cloth  and 
339 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

could  be  trusted  to  carry  milk  and  other 
liquids  with,  perfect  safety.  No  wonder 
Daniel  thought  regretfully  of  the  even 
ing  meal  as  it  used  to  be. 

"Dannel,"  said  Eachel,  a  little  later, 
"whuh  yo'  gwine?" 

He  reached  for  his  accordion  in  pro 
voking  silence,  whereat  Bachel's  wrath 
arose. 

"Yo'  ain'  gwine  tuh  pick  no  banjo, 
nuh  play  no  'cordeen  in  dis  yere  house, ' ' 
she  announced.  "Some  o'  dese  days, 
Dannel,  yo's  gwine  tuh  see  de  wo'd 
'Sin'  in  lettahs  of  fiah  right  'crost  dat 
'cordeen.  Den  yo's  gwine  tuh  be  skeert 
tuh  daith,  an'  yo'  sperrit'll  be  ez  oneasy 
ez  ole  John  Thompson 's." 

6 ' Laws,  Eachel,"  said  Daniel,  "  'tain' 
no  hahm  tuh  play  de  'cordeen.  Ever 
sence  yo'  went  tuh  de  Buck  yo's  jes'  so 
biggoty  dey's  no  gittin'  'long  wid  yo' 
nohow.  Yo'  got  no  eyes  fuh  nobody  but 
340 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

ole  Kinnard  Brice,  an'  he  don'  do 
nothin'  but  traipse  roun'  de  kentry  an' 
eat  oddah  folks'  vittles.  I  ain'  got  no 
use  fuh  him  nohow." 

"Hesh,  hesh,  Dannel,"  said  Rachel. 
"Brothah  Brice  done  been  sanctified, 
'an  he's  a  preachah  o'  de  wo'd  o'  de 
Lawd.  He  'lows  he  kin  lay  de  sperrit 
o'  ole  John  Thompson  low,  an'  it  takes 
a  mighty  holy  pusson  tuh  do  dat.  I  ain' 
gwine  tuh  set  by  an'  hyah  yo'  scarifyin' 
him  wid  yo'  mouf." 

"Huh,"  said  Daniel  scornfully, 
"who's  'feared  o'  ole  John  Thompson 
anyhow?  Reckon  ef  he  wants  tuh  play 
he  fiddle  he's  gwine  tuh  do  it  'thout  no 
for'n  interfluence  f 'om  sech  as  Kinnard 
Brice.  Now  I's  gwine  out,  an'  I  don' 
feel  no  call  tuh  tell  yo'  whuh  I's  gwine 
nuthah." 

So  saying,  Daniel  and  his  accordion 
departed,  leaving  the  wife  of  his  bosom 
341 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

to  amuse  herself  as  best  she  might  until 
her  escort  should  appear. 

The  superstitions  of  her  race  rose 
strong  within  Mrs.  Bostwick  as  the  hours 
passed  and  she  sat  and  waited.  The 
moon  climbed  higher  in  the  heavens  and 
shone  as  only  the  August  moon  knows 
how  to  shine.  The  silence  deepened, 
broken  solely  by  the  chirp  of  a  cricket 
or  an  occasional  chorus  of  frogs  from 
the  stream  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and 
the  heart  of  the  watcher  grew  faint 
within  her  as  midnight  approached. 

"  Swing  low,  sweet  chariot, 
Swing  low,  sweet  chariot, 
Gwine  fuh  tuh  carry  me  home." 

The  familiar  words,  at  first  heard  but 
faintly,  gradually  grew  more  distinct, 
and  as  the  figure  of  Brother  Brice  ap 
peared  Mrs.  Bostwick  arose  from  the 
doorstep  and,  opening  her  mouth  to  its 
342 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

widest  extent,  joined  loudly  in  the  re 
frain, — 

"  Gwine  f  uh  tub  carry  me  home." 

"Is  yo'  ready,  Sistah?"  inquired  the 
pastor. 

He  was  an  imposing  figure  to  look 
upon,  being  clad  in  the  gown  in  which 
he  delivered  his  sermons.  In  its  palmy 
days  it  was  said  to  have  been  a  gentle 
man's  dressing-gown,  but  its  present 
owner  had  dedicated  it  to  the  pulpit.  Set 
well  on  the  back  of  his  head  was  a  much 
rubbed  and  rusty  silk  hat. 

"Is  yo'  ready,  Sistah?"  he  repeated. 

"Yaas,  Brothah  Brice,  I's  ready, " 
she  replied  reluctantly.  "I  sees  yo's 
got  yo '  gown  on,  Brothah. ' ' 

"Yaas,  Sistah.     Dis  yere's  a  mighty 

solemn  'casion,  an'  so  I's  got  meh  gown. 

I's  gwine  down  tuh  de  aidge  o'  de  watah 

wid  yo'  an'  he'p  yo'  tuh  cas'  out  de 

343 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

debbil  wuckin'  inside  yo'  dat  makes  yo' 
b'lieve  in  sperrits;  it's  time  we  was 
stahtinV 

"Has  jo9  got  ten  cents?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Bostwick,  seeing  a  possible  loop 
hole  of  escape.  "  'Tain't  no  mannah  o' 
use  tuh  go  down  dah  'thout  some  silvah 
tuh  drap  intuh  de  watah." 

Brother  Brice  had  not;  he  said  he 
rarely  carried  so  much  with  him,  as  he 
did  not  consider  it  safe.  This  was  an 
unforeseen  complication. 

"Ham'  yo'  got  de  mattah  o'  ten  cents 
no  whuh,  Sistah  Bos 'wick?"  he  inquired 
plaintively.  "Yo'  mus'  a-got  paid  fuh 
yo'  day's  wuck." 

Mrs.  Bostwick  replied  that  she  had 
a  quarter,  which  she  considered  too 
much  to  waste,  but  not  ten  cents,  and 
then  produced  a  cracked  china  teacup. 

"Dis  yere  ain'  de  time  tuh  higgle 
ovah  money,"  said  Brother  Brice,  re- 
344 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

provingly,  as  he  deftly  extracted  four 
quarters  from  the  cup,  three  of  which 
he  consigned  to  his  pocket  while  the  lady 
looked  on  helpless.  "Yo'll  take  dis 
quahtah  in  yo'  han's,  Sistah,  an'  drap  it 
in  de  watah.  De  oddah  free  yo'  owes 
tuh  de  Lawd. 

"Whut  yo'  wants,  Sistah  Bos 'wick," 
he  resumed,  as  they  started  slowly  down 
the  hill,  "whut  yo'  wants  is  con'imence. 
I  has  con'imence  dat  de  Lawd's  gwine 
tuh  take  keer  o'  me,  an'  I  gits  all  I 
wants.  Many  a  mo'nin'  I  dunno  whuh  I's 
gwine  tuh  git  meh  dinnah  nuh  meh  sup- 
pah,  but  I  has  con'imence,  an'  it's  sho' 
tuh  come  somehow." 

"Yaas,  Brothah,"  said  Mrs.  Bost- 
wick  dutifully. 

Meanwhile  Daniel  had  spent  the  even 
ing  playing  the  accordion  to  a  select 
party  of  friends  in  the  village  of  St. 

345 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

Georges  (known  as  "Sin'goges"),  and 
it  was  quite  eleven  o'clock  before  he 
started  home.  Having  a  long  distance 
to  walk,  he  decided  to  take  a  short  cut 
across  the  fields.  He  was  feeling  mod 
erately  happy,  his  friends  having  ex 
pressed  their  appreciation  of  his  playing 
by  sundry  glasses  of  applejack,  which 
Daniel  was  wont  to  say  brought  music 
to  his  heart  and  skill  to  his  fingers.  So 
he  went  cheerfully  and  swiftly  along 
until  he  approached  the  region  of  Fid 
dler's  Bridge. 

Here  he  reduced  his  speed  and  looked 
apprehensively  about.  He  was  no 
coward,  and  when  safe  at  home  had 
often  been  heard  to  laugh  loudly  at  those 
who  feared  the  spirit  of  the  murdered 
fiddler,  but  it  took  a  brave  man  to  cross 
that  bridge  after  ten  or  eleven  o'clock, 
and  Daniel  knew  it  must  be  nearing  mid 
night. 

346 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

At  last  a  brilliant  idea  occurred  to 
him;  lie  would  not  have  to  go  over  the 
bridge  at  all.  Farther  down  the  stream 
were  stones  which  might,  in  an  emer 
gency,  be  used  as  stepping-stones;  he 
would  go  that  way,  since  cross  he  must 
to  reach  home.  The  water  was  not  deep ; 
if  he  fell  in,  he  could  easily  wade  out 
again. 

"I  ain'  gwine  tuh  look  to'ds  de  bridge 
nohow,"  he  muttered,  "an*  den  even  ef 
ole  John  Thompson  is  a-walkin'  I  won' 
see  him. ' ' 

Daniel  took  his  courage  in  both  hands 
as  he  slowly  made  his  way  through  the 
tangle  of  briers  that  bordered  the 
stream.  The  road  was  obscured  by  the 
bushes  and  thick  festoons  of  wild  grape 
vines  which  hung  from  the  trees,  filling 
the  night  air  with  fragrance. 

A  dry  twig  snapped  loudly  as  he 
stepped  upon  it. 

347 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

"  Teahs  like  I  kain'  go  'cross  no 
how,"  he  gasped,  wiping  the  perspira 
tion  from  his  brow. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  his  accor 
dion,  and  opening  it  began  to  play  softly 
to  give  himself  courage.  Still  playing, 
he  started  over  the  stepping-stones  with 
his  head  turned  resolutely  away  from 
the  bridge.  Just  as  he  reached  the  mid 
dle  of  the  stream  he  heard  a  loud  splash, 
as  of  a  heavy  body  striking  the  water. 
Involuntarily  he  turned  his  head; 
plainly  visible  in  the  moonlight  were  the 
white  walls  on  each  side  of  the  bridge, 
and  the  road  leading  up  the  hill;  also 
clearly  to  be  seen  was  a  man  running 
up  that  road  with  a  truly  remarkable 
speed.  But  what  was  that  rising  out 
of  the  water  in  the  shadow  of  the  bridge  ? 
Daniel's  blood  fairly  congealed  as  he 
stood  poised  on  the  slippery  stone  and 
watched  a  large,  dark  figure  rise  from 
348 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

the  water.     It  moved.     It  stood  erect, 
and,  turning  slowly,  faced  him. 

Flesh  and  blood  could  stand  no  more. 
Daniel  cast  his  cherished  accordion 
wildly  from  him  and  started  to  flee,  but, 
unfortunately,  slipped  on  the  wet  stone 
and  precipitated  himself  full  length  in 
the  stream.  In  the  water,  where  old 
John  Thompson  reigned  supreme,  what 
might  not  happen  to  him?  With  chat 
tering  teeth  and  trembling  limbs  he  man 
aged  to  crawl  to  the  bank,  then,  without 
pausing  to  look  behind  him,  started  for 
home  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

"Does  yo'  feel  grace  a-swellin'  in  yo* 
buzzom,  Sistah?"  inquired  Brother 
Brice  as  they  slowly  approached  the 
bridge. 

Mrs.  Bostwick  did  not  reply,  speech 
having  for  the  time  deserted  her,  and 
they  went  on  in  silence. 
349 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

They  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  bridge 
casting  apprehensive  glances  down  the 
stream,  which  shone  beneath  them  like 
a  silver  ribbon,  with  dark  shadows  in 
places,  and  drooping  water-lilies  whose 
leaves  glistened  in  the  moonlight. 

"Is  jo9  'feared,  Sistah?"  whispered 
Brother  Brice  rather  faintly.  "I  ain' 
gwine  tuh  make  yo'  do  nothin'  ag'in  yo' 
will.  Ef  yo'  po'  shrinkin'  haht's  a-f ail- 
in'  yo'  an'  yo's  bent  an'  boun'  on  tann 
in'  home,  I's  gwine  wid  yo'  tuh  take  keer 
o'  yo'.  I  ain'  gwine  tuh  leave  yo'  to 
yo'se'f  nohow." 

But  Mrs.  Bostwick  shook  her  head. 
She  did  not  intend  to  be  reproached  here 
after  for  putting  her  hand  to  the  plough 
and  looking  back. 

"Den,  Sistah,  have  con'imence.    Have 
con'imence  on  me  an'  de  Lawd,  we's 
gwine  tuh  pull  yo'  thro'.     Come  close 
tuh  de  side  o'  de  bridge,  Sistah." 
350 


AT    FIDDLEK'S    BRIDGE 

Approaching  the  low  railing,  they 
looked  over.  The  water  was  not  far 
below,  and  to  their  excited  imagination 
seemed  to  quiver  strangely. 

"Projec*  yo'  body  clean  ovah  de  rail- 
in',  Sistah,"  was  the  next  command, 
"so's  we  kin  see  undah  de  bridge. " 

Obediently  she  leaned  over  as  far  as 
possible,  his  hand  resting  upon  her 
shoulder,  evidently  meant  to  inspire  con 
fidence,  but  very  cold  and  trembling  vio 
lently. 

"W — whut  I  got  tuh  say?"  he  whis 
pered. 

"  'Come  fo'th,  John  Thompson,'  "  she 
replied  in  trembling  accents. 

"Drap  yo'  quahtah,"  he  said. 

The  bit  of  silver  flashed  in  the  moon 
light  and  fell  into  the  water,  making 
widening  circles. 

"Come  fo'th,  J— John  T—T— Thomp 
son,"  he  called,  beginning  loudly  and 
351 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

boldly,  but  ending  with  a  faint  quaver, 
a  chilly  feeling  passing  over  him. 

Very  softly  on  the  night  air  came  the 
sound  of  music.  Too  petrified  to  move, 
they  remained  leaning  far  over  the  rail 
ing,  looking  and  listening.  The  music 
grew  louder;  then  some  distance  below 
the  bridge  but  quite  distinct  and  plainly 
visible  appeared  the  figure  of  a  man, 
moving  slowly  and  playing  upon  some 
instrument. 

The  tongue  of  the  Eev.  Kinnard,  be 
coming  parched  and  dry,  clove  to  the 
roof  of  his  mouth  as  he  tried  in  vain  to 
speak.  He  grew  dizzy  and  clutched  his 
companion  for  support;  he  felt  himself 
slipping;  in  another  moment  he  would 
be  in  the  water.  Eallying  all  his 
strength,  he  clung  to  the  stout  shoulder 
beside  him  and  pulled  himself  up  by  it, 
then,  suddenly  and  violently  pushing  it 
from  him,  turned  and  fled  up  the  road. 
352 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

A  splashing  sound,  as  of  something  fall 
ing  into  the  water,  pursued  him,  and  had 
he  paused  to  look  back  he  would  have 
seen  that  the  bridge  stood  alone  and  un 
occupied  in  the  moonlight.  But  he  did 
not  pause. 

"Lawd  ha'  mussy,"  groaned  Mrs. 
Bostwick  as  she  struck  the  water. 

To  her  intense  surprise,  she  was  not 
immediately  seized  and  drawn  down  by 
the  avenging  ghost  of  John  Thompson, 
nor  did  she  hear  the  voice  of  Brother 
Brice  quelling  the  evil  spirit.  Instead, 
swiftly  flying  footsteps  were  distinctly 
audible,  growing  rapidly  fainter.  Mrs. 
Bostwick  struggled  to  her  feet  and 
looked  up  the  road. 

"Humph!"  she  ejaculated. 

The  discomfort  of  her  present  condi 
tion  and  the  difficulty  of  getting  on  dry 
land  seemed  to  overcome  her  fear,  so 
23  353 


POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

she  looked  boldly  down  the  stream.  The 
spirit  had  disappeared,  but  a  dusky 
figure  could  be  seen  scrambling  wildly 
up  the  bank  and  vanishing  in  the  bushes. 
There  was  a  light  triangular  patch  on 
the  seat  of  the  dark  trousers  which 
looked  strangely  familiar  to  Mrs.  Bost- 
wick. 

Wading  wearily  along,  the  water  up 
to  her  shoulders  and  occasionally  filling 
her  ears,  she  encountered  a  hard  object 
floating  towards  her.  It  proved  to  be 
an  accordion. 

"  Teahs  like  I's  saw  dis  afore,"  she 
muttered. 

Two  dripping  figures  met  on  the 
threshold  of  the  Bostwick  homestead. 

"Dannel,"  said  one,  "huccum  yo'  tuh 
git  so  wet?" 

"Well,  Bachel,"  replied  the  other, 
"jes'  ez  I  was  a-comin'  tuh  de  bridge, 
354 


AT    FIDDLER'S    BRIDGE 

I  seen  a  bullfrog  a-settin'  on  de  bank 
a-winkin'  at  me,  an'  knowin'  yo'  was 
parshul  tub  frogs'  legs  I  struv'  tub  git 
bim  fub  yo'  bre'kfus',  boney,  an'  so 
doin'  fell  intub  de  watab.  Ain'  yo' 
kinder  damp  yo'se'f,  Rachel?" 

"Dannel,"  sbe  replied  solemnly,  "ez 
I  was  a-strollin'  by  de  stream  in  de 
moonligbt,  I  seen  yo'  'cordeen  in  de 
watab,  an'  in  tryin'  tub  feesb  it  out  I 
done  got  in  up  tub  meb  neck.  Dat's  all, 
Dannel." 

Tbe  following  Sunday  Brother  Brice 
preached  his  famous  sermon  on  "Con- 
'imence,"  taking  for  a  general  text  the 
power  of  the  righteous  to  cast  out  devils. 
Mrs.  Bostwick,  who  was  present,  was 
observed  to  sniff  scornfully  several 
times,  and  finally  left  the  church. 

Next  morning  when  sbe  prepared  to 
go  and  do  the  washing  at  the  big  house, 
355 


POKETOWN  PEOPLE 

Daniel,  much  to  his  inward  satisfaction, 
saw  her  array  herself  again  in  the  gown 
of  many  pockets.  She  patted  the  one 
lined  with  rubber  affectionately. 

"I's  gwine  tuh  fotch  yo'  home  sump- 
in'  nice  fuh  yo'  suppah,  honey,"  she 
remarked. 


THE   END 


356 


HEART   OF   LYNN 

By  MARY   STEWART    CUTTING 

Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

' '  The  tale,  sad  and  merry,  of  a  family  fallen  upon  hard 
times,  of  their  struggles,  and  the  final  happy  ending  to  all 
their  woes.  The  different  girl  characters  are  admirably  done, 
the  two  boys  are  manly,  wholesome  fellows,  and  the  whole 
story  tells  itself  naturally,  with  just  enough  of  romance,  and 
mystery,  and  fun." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"Mrs.  Cutting's  '  Heart  of  Lynn'  is  a  sunshiny  domestic 
story  of  the  Alcott  variety.  There  is  a  bevy  of  sweet  and 
lovable  girls  ;  the  family  has  to  build  its  fortune  amid  dis 
couragements  and  trials  ;  their  ingenious  ways  and  means 
and  their  courage  amid  trials  and  temptations  make  a  pleasing 
story — pleasing  because  of  its  unpretentious  and  heartsome 
qualities. ' '  — Pittsburgh  Gazette. 

"Lynn  was  the  brave,  unselfish,  hopeful  daughter  in  a 
family  struggling  with  reduced  circumstances.  Her  efforts 
to  become  a  wage-earner  brought  her  into  some  amusing 
situations.  Her  '  merry  heart, '  however,  carried  her  the  full 
'  mile, '  and  we  leave  her  dreaming  of  a  happy  future  quite 
within  her  grasp. " — New  York  Outlook. 

"  A  sweeter,  more  wholesome  little  tale  than  Mrs.  Cutting's 
latest  novel  has  not  appeared  recently.  It  has  the  same 
quality  of  intense  humanity  that  distinguished  the  '  Little 
Stories  of  Married  Life. '  Makes  valuable  reading  for  girls, 
whether  they  are  in  the  industrial  struggle  or  not." — The 
New  York  Evening  Post. 

"  '  The  Heart  of  Lynn'  is  as  sweet  and  as  healthful  a  book  as 
any  published  for  a  long  time. ' ' — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"The  style  is  charming  in  its  pure  simplicity,  the  charac 
ters  lifelike  and  the  conversation  and  incidents  natural." — 
Baltimore  Sun. 

"An  entertaining  and  well  written  story,  light  and 
charming." — New  York  Sunday  Sun. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA. 


A  Tar-Heel   Baron 

A    LOVE    STORY 
By  MABELL   SHIPPIE   CLARKE   PELTON 

With   Drawings    by    Edward    Stratton    Holloway 
Decorated    Cloth    Covers,    postpaid,    $1-50 


Charleston  News  and  Courier. 

"In  the  hero  of  the  novel,  Baron  von  Rittenheira,  Mrs. 
Pelton  has  drawn  a  very  attractive  character." 

Augusta  Sunday  Herald. 

"One  of  the  most  unique  and  at  the  same  time  lovable 
characters  in  recent  fiction." 

The  Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  Mrs.  Pelton  has  bestowed  her  best  care  upon  the  Baron, 
and  we  are  attracted  to  him  from  the  outset." 

Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

"  Mrs.  Pelton  has  produced  a  good  novel  which  will  ap 
peal  to  all  who  like  a  good  delineation  of  American  life 
as  well  as  a  beautiful  love  story.  The  Baron  is  a  new 
character  in  our  fiction  and  well  wrought  out." 

Boston  Transcript. 

"  It  is  a  straightforward,  wholesome  love  story,  told  with 
a  winning  admixture  of  simplicity  and  savoir  faire.  .  .  . 
The  girl  who  would  not  lose  her  heart  to  Baron  Fried- 
rich  von  Rittenheim  must  have  something  the  matter 
with  that  organ." 

The  Chicago  Tribune. 

"The  Baron  von  Rittenheim,  hero,  lover,  and  quaintly 
courteous  gentleman,  is  the  character  of  greatest  inter 
est.  The  reader  watches  with  eagerness  the  history  of 
this  self-made  exile  from  the  fatherland,  from  the  time 
when  he  comes  to  North  Carolina,  saddened  and  in 
great  poverty,  until  he  finally  wins  his  way  from  weak 
ness  to  strength." 


Publisher.  :  J.  B.  Lippincoti  Company  : 


THE  ISSUE 

By  GEORGE  MORGAN 

Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.50 


"Will  stand  prom 
inently  forth  as  the 
strongest  book  that 
the  season  has  given 
us.  The  novel  is  a 
brilliant  one,  and 
will  command  wide 
attention. ' ' — Phila 
delphia  Public  Led 
ger. 

"The  love  story 
running  through  the 
book  is  very  tender 
and  sweet." — St. 
Paul  Despatch. 

"  Po,  a  sweet,  lov 
able  heroine."  — 
The  Mi Iw auke e 
Sentinel. 

' '  Such  novels  as 
*  The  Issue '  are  rare 
upon  any  theme.  It 
is  a  work  that  must 
have  cost  tremen 
dous  toil,  a  master 
piece.  It  is  superior 
to  'The  Crisis.'"  — 
Pittsburg  Gazette. 

"The  best  novel 
of  the  Civil  War 
that  we  have  had." 
— Baltimore  Sun. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


OLIVE  LATHAM 

By  E.  L.  VOYNICH 

Author  of  "Jack  Raymond"  and  "  The  Gadfly."       Cloth,  $1.50 

• '  The  author's  knowledge  of  this  matter  has  been  pain 
fully  personal.  Her  husband,  a  Polish  political  refugee, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  was  arrested  and  thrown  into 
a  vile  Russian  prison  without  trial,  and  spent  five  years 
of  his  life  thereafter  in  Siberian  exile,  escaping  in  1890 
and  fleeing  to  England.  Throughout  'Olive  Latham' 
you  get  the  impression  that  it  is  a  veritable  record  of  what 
one  woman  went  through  for  love.  .  .  .  This  painful, 
poignant,  powerfully-written  story  permits  one  full  insight 
into  the  cruel  workings  of  Russian  justice  and  its  effects 
upon  the  nature  of  a  well-poised  Englishwoman.  Olive 
comes  out  of  the  Russian  hell  alive,  and  lives  to  know 
what  happiness  is  again,  but  the  horror  of  those  days  in 
St.  Petersburg,  the  remembrance  of  the  inhumanity  which 
killed  her  lover  never  leaves  her.  ...  It  rings  true. 
It  is  a  grewsome  study  of  Russian  treatment  of  political 
offenders.  Its  theme  is  not  objectionable — a  criticism 
which  has  been  brought  against  other  books  of  Mrs. 
Voynich's. ' '  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"So  vividly  are  the  coming  events  maae  to  cast  their 
shadows  before,  that  long  before  the  half-way  point  is 
reached  the  reader  knows  that  Volodya's  doom  is  near  at 
hand,  and  that  the  chief  interest  of  the  story  lies  not  with 
him,  but  with  the  girl,  and  more  specifically  with  the 
curious  mental  disorders  which  her  long  ordeal  brings 
upon  her.  It  is  seldom  that  an  author  has  succeeded  in 
depicting  with  such  grim  horror  the  sufferings  of  a  mind 
that  feels  itself  slipping  over  the  brink  of  sanity,  and 
clutches  desperately  at  shadows  in  the  effort  to  drag  itself 
back."—  New  York  Globe. 


J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


PIGS    IN    CLOVER 

BY  "FRANK  DANBY" 

8vo,     Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

"By  far  the  most  powerful  and  searching 
piece  of  fiction  of  the  year." — The  Bookman. 

"  Has  a  vigor  like  that  Charles  Reade  used 
to  show." — Buffalo  Commercial. 

"  A  powerful  society  and  political  romance 
which  is  still  more  powerful  as  a  novel  of 
character." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"The  most  effective  realistic  novel  of  a 
decade." — PROFESSOR  GUY  CARLETON  LEE. 

"The  book  is  written  with  insight,  sincerity 
of  purpose,  and  rugged  virility." — The  New 
York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  One  of  the  most  powerful  and  sustained 
stories  read  in  many  months." — DR.  HARRY 
THURSTON  PECK. 

"A  novel  of  unusual  power,  brilliant,  and 
full  of  insight  into  character.  It  is  a  book 
to  read." — Detroit  Free  Press. 


J.   B.    LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA 


THAT  MAINWARING  AFFAIR 

By  A.  MAYNARD  BARBOUR. 
Illustrated  by  E.  Plaisted  Abbott.     Z2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


"  Possibly  in  a  detective  story  the  main  object  is  to  thrill.  If  so, 
'That  Mainwaring  Affair'  is  all  right.  The  thrill  is  there,  full 
measure,  pressed  down  and  running  over." — Life,  New  York. 

"The  book  that  reminds  one  of  Anna  Katherine  Green  in  her 
palmiest  days.  .  .  .  Keeps  the  reader  on  the  alert,  defies  the  efforts 
of  those  who  read  backwards,  deserves  the  applause  of  all  who  like 
mystery." — Town  Topics,  New  York. 

"  The  tale  is  well  told,  and  the  intricacies  of  the  plot  so  adroitly 
managed  that  it  is  impossible  to  foresee  the  correct  solution  of  the 
mysterious  case  until  the  final  act  of  the  tragedy.  .  .  .  Although 
vividly  told,  the  literary  style  is  excellent  and  the  story  by  no  means 
sensational,  a  fact  that  raises  it  above  the  level  of  the  old-time  detec 
tive  story." — Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

"The  book  will  hold  the  reader's  attention  from  beginning  to 
end. ' '  —Press,  Philadelphia. 

"A  novel  with  a  most  intricate  and  carefully  unraveled  plot.  .  .  . 
The  treatment  is  pleasantly  original,  and  the  book  can  be  safely 
recommended  to  the  reader  who  likes  his  fiction  to  baffle  him  until 
the  author  is  willing  to  make  it  clear." — North  American,  Phila 
delphia. 

"It  is  a  thrilling  story  of  crime  and  intrigue,  entirely  free  from 
brutality  of  thought  or  coarseness  of  expression.  The  author  has 
fine  command  of  language  and  the  faculty  of  leaving  just  enough 
unsaid  to  keep  interest  at  the  highest  pitch." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  The  reader  will  be  a  good  guesser,  indeed,  if  he  solves  this  mys 
tery  story  before  the  author  does  it  for  him.  A  pleasant  love  interest 
runs  through  the  pages." — Rocky  Mountain  News,  Denver. 

"Stories  of  this  kind  are  far  from  novel,  but  few  of  them  have 
been  wrought  with  so  much  literary  skill  as  'That  Mainwaring 
Affair.'  " — Evening  Wisconsin,  Milwaukee. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


AT  THE  TIME  APPOINTED 

BY  A.  MAYNARD   BARBOUR. 

Author  of"  That  Main-waring  Affair." 

Colored  frontispiece  byj.  N.  Marchand.     Striking  covers  in 
cloth,  $1.50. 

"Vivid  in  its  characterizations,  .  .  .  and 
thrilling  in  its  dramatic  situations." — Wash 
ington  Evening  Star. 

"A  highly  romantic  story,  full  of  thrilling 
adventure  and  sentiment.  .  .  .  The  author 
has  a  fine,  forceful  style,  her  sentiment  is 
tender,  .  .  .  and  the  situations  and  episodes 
are  full  of  interest  to  the  end." — Milwaukee 
Evening  Wisconsin. 

"  Clean,  interesting,  sensational,  and  at  no 
time  immoral  even  in  far  off  suggestion.  A 
climax  of  excitement." — St.  Louis  Star. 

"  A  study  in  character,  and  a  very  unusual 
and  original  love  story." — St.  Paul  Dispatch. 

"  A  good  mystery  that  stimulates  the  imagi 
nation  and  excites  the  deepest  interest." — 
Washington  Post. 

"The  reader  will  find  much  to  excite  his 
interest.  The  secrets  of  this  story  are  for  the 
reader  to  gather  at  first  hand.  We  believe 
that  they  will  move  him." — N.  Y.  Sun. 


J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


A  SEQUENCE   IN    HEARTS 

BY   MARY   MOSS. 

Author  of  "  Fruit  Out  of  Season,"  "Julian  Meldohla." 
I2mo.     Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Miss  Moss  sees  life  as  a  sunny  comedy 
and  tells  of  it  with  cheerful  relish.  The 
characters  are  all  human.  The  story  is 
sparkling  with  vivacity  and  good  humor." 
— Pittsburg  Commercial  Gazette. 

"  The  characters  are  well  drawn  and  there  is 
plenty  of  humor  and  a  great  deal  of  satire  fur 
nished  by  Cousin  Romola." — Worcester  Spy. 

"A  love  story  of  to-day  marked  by  un 
usually  clever  character  drawing  and  a  fund 
of  quiet  humor  and  sharp  satire." — Trenton 
Times. 

"A  cleverly  written  and  thoroughly  inter 
esting  story  of  the  present  day." — Chicago 
Tribune. 

"The  book  is  full  of  vivid  touches,  showing 
a  shrewd  analysis  of  character,  a  fine  kind  of 
humor  as  an  underdrift,  and  a  cheerful  tone 
brightens  up  the  tragic  atmosphere." — Syra 
cuse  Herald. 

"  Decidedly  clever,  and  well  worth  reading." 
— N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 


J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA 


ADAM    RUSH. 

By  LYNN   ROBY   MEEKINS. 

A  new  and  interesting  figure  in  a  love  story  with  thi 
charm  of  country  and  village  life  in  every  chapter. 
Frontispiece  by  Francis  Day.     12 mo. 
Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

BREACHLEY— BLACK    SHEEP. 

By  LOUIS   BECKE. 

Mr.  Becke's  work  is  stamped  by  vigor  of  expression 
and  an  intensely  dramatic  imagination.  Breachley  is 
the  most  capable  and  in  many  respects  the  most  inter 
esting  of  his  books. 

iamo.     Decorated  cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

A    BLAZE    OF    GLORY. 

By  JOHN  STRANGE  WINTER. 

A   new  novel    by  an   author   whose    thousands   of 
readers  attest  to  her  continued  popularity.     This  is  one 
of  her  strongest  and  brightest  stories. 
1 2 mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

GENTLEMAN    GARNET. 

By  HARRY  B.  VOGEL. 

,      A  tale   of   old    Tasmania    by  a    popular   novelist. 
Lippincotfs  Series  of  Select  Novels. 

Crown  8vo.     Decorated  cloth,  $1.00;  paper,  50  centa. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


Miss  Carmichael's  Conscience 

BY   BARONESS   VON   HUTTEN 
1  2  mo.      Cloth,  ornamental,  with  Frontispiece,  $l.oo 


"  We  are  told  that  no  woman  is  a  heroine  to  her  maid,  which  is  ex 
plained  by  the  fact  that  the  judgment  of  the  servants'  hall  is  based  upon 
information  that  is  strictly  private  and  confidential.  Thus,  while  Miss 
Carmichael  in  one  of  the  chapters  of  the  book  is  being  discussed  by  her 
aunt's  servants  at  their  early  breakfast,  Mr.  Graves,  the  veteran  butler, 
sums  up  his  young  mistress  as  follows  :  '  I've  a-been  in  this  'ouse  a  mat 
ter  of  eleven  years,  and  the  goin's  on  is  beyond  belief.  First  there  was 
the  vicar's  young  gentlemen,  —  all  of  'em,  when  she  was  sixteen.  Then 
young  Worsley,  an  ensign  in  the  guards  he  was,  as  come  down  to  visit 
his  mamma.  Then  there  was  two  curates,  one  of  'em  had  the  'ay  fever 
and  the  other  one  went  down  on  his  knees,  —  as  I  'appened  in  with  the 
tea.  There  was  two  military  gents  after  that,  and  young  'Arford.  And 
little  Cranby,  'e  tried  to  kill  'imself.  And  then  there  was  a  Mr.  McKenzie 
who  visited  here.  You  remember  Cook,  him  as  ate  so  many  muffins.  He 
disappeared.'  'She  'ave  a  cold  'art,'  murmured  Burrows,  who  was  ro 
mantic  and  wore  a  fringe  on  Sundays.  So  it  will  be  observed  that  Miss 
Carmichael  was  in  the  way  of  being  no  end  of  a  flirt.  The  manner  in 
which  this  young  lady's  conscience  is  exploited  and  finally  awakened  is 
very  cleverly  told  by  the  Baroness  von  Hutten  in  this  '  study  in  fluctua 
tions,'  as  the  book  is  styled  in  its  sub-title.  It  is  also  a  character  study, 
and  a  bright  and  shrewd  one  at  that.  The  dozen  people  who  constitute 
the  dramatis  persona:  are  drawn  very  close  to  life  —  the  life  of  the  county 
set  in  an  English  provincial  neighborhood,  and  the  shred  of  moral  that 
goes  with  the  story  is  excellent  in  its  way  and  by  no  manner  of  means 
obtrusive.  If  the  authoress  can  write  other  books  as  clever  as  this,  —  the 
present  volume  would  seem  to  be  her  first  effort,  —  the  sooner  she  sets 
about  it  the  better."—  Tribune,  Cambridge,  Mass. 

"  She  sings  '  The  Night  has  a  Thousand  Eyes'  for  him  at  an  evening 
party  and  bids  him  good-by  in  the  presence  of  twenty  people.  He  sails 
•xway  to  Brazil,  and  she  wakes  up  the  next  morning  with  a  bad  headache 
and  refuses  tea.  It  is  all  very  naturally  and  brightly  told,  and  the  dia 
logue  and  characterization  are  of  that  spitefully  witty  sort  in  which  lady 
•ovelists  especially  excel."—  Times-Herald,  Chicago,  111. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


By  LOUIS   BECKE 


Mr.   Becke's  work  is  stamped  by  vigor  of  expression 
and  an  intensely  dramatic  imagination. 


BY  REEF  AND  PALM  and   HIS   NATIVE  WIFE. 

Illustrated.     iamo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

THE   EBBING   OF  THE   TIDE. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

RODMAN  THE   BOAT-STEERER,  AND  OTHER 

STORIES. 
RIDAN,   THE   DEVIL. 

THE   TAPU    OF   BANDERAH. 

YORKE,    THE   ADVENTURER. 
HELEN   ADAIR. 

BREACHLEY— BLACK   SHEEP. 

Large  121110.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50  each. 

THE      STRANGE      ADVENTURE      OF      JAMES 
SHERVINTON. 

Illustrated.     8vo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA 


THIS   BOOK   IS   DUE  ON   THE   LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA, 

Book  Slip-25/n-6,'66(G;>855s4)45S 


N9   552522 


PS3539 
Tybout,  E.M.  Y36 

Poketown  people;       P6 
or,  Parables  in 
black* 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


